Measure of Heroics: The Holy Children
by TheSovereigntyofReality
Summary: 1 of 3. When Indy left Marion, it interrupted a cycle. Indy begins to dream of other people. But who are they? What have they got to do with him? Why is he seeing them? He'll learn a lesson from these people that will lead him to the greatest prize of all. Implied Indy/Marion.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: All characters that actually exist in the Indiana Jones series belong to Lucas and Spielberg.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Kamau Kawar**

**El Jawf, Libya, 245 AD**

A black-skinned man with a thick but short beard sat at a wooden table. His small five year old daughter sat on his knee. She stared up at him like he was an odd sight in the house. Across the room, his wife was settling the other four down into their blankets. Each got progressively younger by a year.

The little girl in the man's lap reached up and patted his whiskers. '_Baba_?'

The man sighed and spoke in their native tongue. '_Yes_, Adeola, _this is baba_.'

'_Where you go_?'

'_All right_.' His wife bustled over. 'Adeola, _it's time to go to bed_.' She picked the little girl up out of his hands.

'_Nite-nite_, _baba_.' Adeola waved.

'_Goodnight_.'

His wife went over and tucked her in bed with her brothers and sister. Then she closed the curtains and crossed back over. Planting her hands on her hips, she stared down at him. He looked up at her.

'Kamau Kawar,' she began in a harsh voice, '_what are you doing back here_?_ I thought you'd be proudly shooting well-dressed men right now_.'

Kamau dropped his head. '_I'm sorry_, Chinaza.'

The scowl vanished from her face. It was replaced by a puzzled frown, her brow furrowed. '_You're sorry_? _What are you talking about_?'

'_I made a mistake_,' Kamau said. '_I thought it'd be so simple_._ Get a weapon_,_ kill all of the dictators and that would be the end of our problems_._ I thought I'd be a hero_._ You were right_.' He sighed heavily and dropped his head into his hands. '_All we're doing is getting people killed_.'

Chinaza huffed and pressed her lips to the side. '_I told you that long ago_, Kamau. _Now what are you going to do about it_?'

Kamau looked up at her. '_I_ _don't_ _know_. _Nothing's_ _clear_ _to_ _me_ _anymore_.' He exhaled. '_I_ _suppose_ _that_ _is_ _what_ _happens_ _when_ _reality_ _decides_ _to_ _slap_ _you_ _in_ _the_ _face_.'

Chinaza turned her head curiously. '_Who_ _died_?'

'_Who_ _didn't_ _die_?' Kamau dropped his head. '_Me_. _Only_ _me_.'

'_They_ _shot_ _at_ _you_.' Chinaza said it as a statement of fact. '_In_ _their_ _masses_. _Is_ _this_ _what_ _it_ _takes_ _for_ _you_ _to_ _realise_ _your_ _own_ _idiocy_?'

'_Yes_, _and_ _believe_ _me_, Chinaza, _I_ _am_ _sorry_.' Kamau slipped from the stool and knelt before his wife. '_I'm_ _sorry_ _to_ _you_ _and_ _I'm_ _sorry_ _to_ _them_.' He pointed to the curtain where their children slept. '_You_ _could_ _never_ _know_ _how_ _sorry_.'

Chinaza's face softened. She stepped forward and embraced her husband. He hugged her tight. Chinaza dropped a kiss onto her husband's head. He buried his face in her belly, tears dampening her dress.

'_You_ _won't_ _stop_ _fighting_, _though_, Kamau,' Chinaza said, her voice soft and gentle. '_It_ _isn't_ _who_ _you_ _are_.'

'_I_ _cannot_ _let_ _my_ _children_ _grow_ _up_ _like_ _this_.' His voice was muffled under her arms but his determination was clear. '_I_ _just_ _don't_ _know_ _how_ _to_ _do_ _it_. _Please_…_help_ _me_.'

Chinaza scrutinised the wall for a long moment. Then she said, 'Behaze.'

**Bedford, USA, 1926**

Hazel eyes flew open and Indiana Jones bolted up in bed. He panted for breath. Why the hell did he keep seeing this stuff? This was the third night. The first one, he saw how this Kamau Kawar got involved in the guerrilla activities against this Dictator Fiskal guy, the way Chinaza Kawar cried to him, tears streaming down her face, that he'd only get himself killed, that he'd endanger the family, at which time she'd only been pregnant with Adeola. He'd seen Kamau ignore her and go anyway.

The second night Kamau had been enjoying it all, fighting and, when away for extended periods, sleeping around with any woman that caught his eye, despite the fact that he had a wife and, at that point, three children at home. Indy saw a complete asshole with a gun. That dream had ended with an ambush on one of the El Jawf's politicians. Now this.

Indy laid back. At least now he saw a human being under there. Before, he hadn't liked this guy at all. Now, he realised with distaste, that Kamau Kawar was more like him than Indy would like. He slept around pretending those women were Chinaza, the same way Indy had started sleeping around pretending the women were Marion.

Speaking of which…Indy's eyes shifted to the blonde next to him in the bed. He grimaced in distaste. His mother had been blonde…oh, God, he had to get out of the bed before that thought went further.

Indy rolled out from under the covers, pulled on his underwear and dressing gown and went downstairs. He walked into the den. His newest obsession seemed to have overruled the Cross of Coronado almost completely.

Was Kamau Kawar real? If he was, why was Indy dreaming about his life? Was Kamau trying to get a point across? Or did he just connect because of how similar the two of them were? Both of them refused to take "no" for an answer. If he wasn't, why the hell was Indy consistently dreaming about him?

That was what it came down to: why was Indiana Jones watching of the life of Kamau Kawar when he slept?

Indy sat at his desk and opened the text book. He put on his glasses and started scanning it. He'd found something on Dictator Fiskal. That was promising. Indy had told Marcus about it after the second dream so Marcus had, brilliantly, gotten contact with someone who had the dictator's personal diary, something which was sitting in a museum in Tripoli, Libya, and was having it shipped to them as a priority.

That meant Indy would be translating the whole thing.

**El Jawf, Libya**

A man leaned forward over the report. 'Fiskal's _personal_ _journal_ _was_ _requested_ _and_ _shipped_ _to_ _America_?' He looked at the woman standing next to him. '_To_ _whom_?'

The woman frowned and folded her arms across her chest. '_It_ _was_ _requested_ _by_ _a_ Dr. Marcus Brody _for_ _a_ Dr. Indiana Jones. _A_ _couple_ _of_ _archaeologists_. _But_ Fiskal _is_ _nearly_ _forgotten_. _I_ _don't_ _see_ _why_ _they'd_ _be_ _interested_ _in_ _him_.'

The girl leaning on the other side of the desk raised her eyebrows. 'Nick _would_ _likely_ _know_. _Should_ _we_ _waste_ _his_ _time_?'

The man clicked his tongue. '_I_ _think_ _not_. _If_ _it_ _is_ _serious_, Nick _will_ _alert_ _us_. Fiskal _was_ _my_ _problem_, _after_ _all_.'

**Bedford, USA**

Marcus followed Indy into the den. He'd just handed him the journal, which Indy now had his nose buried in. The book had only just arrived and Marcus had brought it to Indy immediately. Personally, Marcus felt that Kamau Kawar had, in fact, existed. He had probably merely been swept from time or was regarded as folklore. And there was indeed some kind of a connection between him and Indy.

Marcus was still curious. 'Did you find out who Behaze was?'

Indy didn't look up but he did answer. 'Shaman, medicine man, warlock. Whatever you want to call him. He taught Kamau magic.'

'And you've seen Kamau start using that magic against Dictator Fiskal?' Marcus asked.

'Mm hm.' Indy nodded once. 'I started to think he wasn't real but then...' He shook his head. 'The dictator's real. What if this guy is too?'

Indy's sceptism was incredible. The man, clever as he was, refused to acknowledge that some things were inexplicable, that not everything had a rational explanation. It was a lot like Abner Ravenwood, really. And it was so sad to see that the one thing that Indy should have gotten from the Ravenwoods, love and possibly a wife, he never did.

Indy waited until Marcus left before he sat back and breathed out. He only played up his sceptism. Really, he believed this stuff as much as Marcus did. The biggest thing Abner ever taught him was to scoff at the paranormal in professional company. And that was only taught because he knew Indy had seen it. It became a habit.

Pity the one thing Indy had wanted in the world had technically belonged to Abner and he wasn't willing to let it go. Too young, his ass. For God's sake, Indy had been seventeen when he got into the affair with Mata Hari.

Indy shook his head to clear that thought and focused on translating the diary.

**El Jawf, Libya, 252 AD**

Kamau sat at the table with his hands folded under his nose. '_I'm_ _not_ _sure_. _She's_ _only_ _twelve_, Chinaza. _You_ _were_ _three_ _years_ _older_ _when_ _I_ _married_ _you_.'

Chinaza nodded head in partial agreement. '_As_ _aware_ _of_ _this_ _as_ _I_ _am_, _the_ _boys_ _have_ _started_ _knocking_. _She's_ _physically mature for her age_. _When she ripens fully_...' She let that one hang.

Kamau buried his head in his arms and groaned dramatically. The curtain to the sleeping quarters was pushed aside and a twelve year old black girl walked out. She saw them and smiled.

'_What's_ _wrong_ _with_ _baba_?' she asked.

'_He_ _doesn't_ _like_ _his_ _children_ _growing_ _up_.' Chinaza smiled. '_Be_ _nice_, Adeola.'

Adeola Kawar laughed in delight.

**Bedford, USA, 1926**

Indy was so used to it by now that he just rolled out of bed when he woke up. Indy moved downstairs and sat down, getting right back to the translation. Fiskal had been on a roll until the bit that Indy was about to translate. Something had definitely happened.

Over the next few hours, Indy translated and found that an attack had struck dead a garrison of Fiskal's men in a single sweep. Although powerful, Fiskal's personal shaman had said it was the work of an amateur under instruction. Strangely, Kamau had cast a spell to wipe out a garrison of Fiskal's men under the tuition of Behaze.

Coincidence?

Indy really doubted it.

**El Jawf, Libya, 254 AD**

Kamau stood before the two men. One of them was richly dressed – Dictator Fiskal – and the other was in a heavy cloak. That was the shaman. To the side, Chinaza and the five children were held at blade-point. None of them showed any fear.

A glow surrounded Kamau's hands. Fiskal watched in interest.

'Behaze is dead, Witch Guerrilla,' the shaman said. 'You used his assistance all that time.'

Kamau didn't break his gaze. 'For nine years?'

Fiskal raised his voice. 'What is your name, Witch Guerrilla?'

**Bedford, USA, 1927**

_His name is Kamau Kawar. And I fear him. His power is unrivalled. When I took his wife and children I thought he would not dare fight back, fearing for them. But he not only took up the art of witchcraft, he taught it to his family. My shaman fought him and he would have won, had not the Kawar family joined their power with their father._

_The eldest was the first to start chanting. Her mother then. Followed by her four siblings. Then they turned on me. Now, my body is failing. I cannot get those faces out of my head._

_Kamau Kawar. Those eyes…so determined. Nothing would have moved him and nothing would have stopped him. That emotion…the one they call love. It was so intense within him. So intense he was able to use it to destroy my dynasty._

_Chinaza Kawar. She was the driving force behind her husband. She was the one who started him fighting and kept him going._

_The daughters, Adeola and Shani. The eldest child and the youngest. They do not fit my mould. They do not understand their place. Tonight I saw that their father encourages them to power. Adeola…I see untapped power within her, her witchery cast aside._

_Nafari, Zuberi and Babajide. The three sons. They held firm and were strong, in body and power. They would have made excellent soldiers, had they not been allied to their father._

_At one point, I though Kamau and Chinaza would die. They were swallowed by my shaman's power, but they stood after. Their wounds had vanished. I fear what happened. In_

It ended there. Obviously, this was a place where Fiskal had died, or passed out at least. Either way, it told Indy precisely what he wanted to know. That man had been Kamau Kawar.

Kamau Kawar had been a real man.

Indy closed his eyes and dropped his head. God, he was so tired. He'd been working on this passage for hours.

**El Jawf, Libya, 793 AD**

Adeola Kawar looked at the medallion in her hand. It was bronze with a ruby in the centre. She looked up. Kamau and Chinaza sat there. Kamau was leaning forward, looking at it.

'_The_ _Headpiece_ _to_ _the_ _Staff_ _of_ Ra?' he asked. '_Would_ _you_ _explain_ _that_?'

'_It's_ _a_ _western_ _belief_ _system_,' Adeola said. '_They_ _call_ Allah "God". _From_ _what_ _I_ _was_ _able_ _to_ _discover_, _it's_ _an_ _old_ _story_. _Their_ "God" _chose_ _the_ _Hebrews_ _as_ _his_ _people_. _The_ _story_ _tells_ _how_ _he_ _saved_ _them_ _from_ _slavery_ _in_ _Egypt_ _using_ _a_ _man_ _called_ Moses. God _called_ Moses _onto_ _a_ _mountain_ _and_ _gave_ _him_ _ten_ _commandments engraved on stone tablets_ _for_ _the_ _Hebrews_ _to_ _live_ _by_.'

'_Like_ Allah's _commandments_?' Chinaza asked.

'_Evidentially_.' Adeola nodded once. '_But_ _he_ _took_ _so_ _long_ _the_ _Hebrews_ _decided_ _to_ _make_ _a_ _God_ _and_ _worship_ _that_. _When_ Moses _eventually_ _came_ _down_ _and_ _saw_ _what_ _they_ _were_ _doing_, _he_ _was so outraged_ _that_ _he_ _smashed_ _the_ _commandments_. _Those_ _worshipping_ _the_ _false_ _God_ _were_ _punished_ _and_ Moses _put_ _the_ _pieces_ _of_ _the_ _stone_ _in_ _a_ _crate_ _called_ _the_ _Ark_ _of_ _the_ _Covenant_.'

Kamau waved his hand. '_And_…_where_ _it_ _is_ _now_?'

'_Well_, _it_ _was_ _kept_ _in_ _the_ _Temple_ _of_ Solomon _in_ _Jerusalem_ _for_ _centuries_ _when_ _suddenly_ _it's_ _gone_.' Adeola lifted her shoulders in a shrug. '_No_ _one knows_ _how_ _or_ _when_ _but_ _there_ _was_ _a_ _rumour_ _that_ _a_ _Pharaoh_ _took_ _the_ _Ark_ _from_ _Jerusalem_ _to_ _the_ _city_ _of_ _Tanis_. _Soon_ _after_, _Tanis_ _was_ _gone_. _Nothing_ _left_ _of_ _it_. _Wiped_ _clean_ _by_ _the_ _wrath_ _of_ God, _they_ _said_.'

Chinaza looked between her husband and daughter. '_Not_ _something_ _we_ _want_ _just_ _anyone_ _to_ _acquire_ _then_.'

'Hm.' Kamau nodded in agreement. '_What_ _about_ _the_ _medallion_?'

'_The_ _Ark_ _is_ _possibly_ _still_ _at_ Tanis.' Adeola looked back at the trinket in her hands. '_A_ _map_ _room_ _exists_. _If_ _you_ _were_ _to_ _put_ _this_ _on_ _the_ _Staff_ _of_ _Ra_ _and_ _take_ _it_ _to_ _the_ _room_, _at_ _a_ _certain_ _time_ _of_ _day_, _the_ _light_ _will_ _shine_ _in_, _strike_ _the_ _ruby_ _and_ _give_ _you_ _the_ _exact_ _location_ _of_ _the_ _chamber_ _that_ _holds_ _the_ _Ark_.' Adeola looked back at her parents. '_A_ _room that I believe is_ _called_ _the_ _Well_ _of_ _Souls_.'

'_I_ _see_.' Kamau rubbed his hand over his beard a few times. '_So_ _we_ _have_ _the_ _key_ _to_ _one_ _of_ _the_ _deadliest_ _treasures_ _in_ _the_ _world_. _We_ _should_ _keep_ _it_ _safe_. Adeola, _you_ _are_ _best_ _suited_.' He frowned. '_And_, _one_ _day_, _I'll_ _find_ _out_ _why_.'

**Bedford, USA, 1927**

Marcus paced excitedly. He'd just read Indy's translation and heard about the dream. 'So they're not ageing? Are they immortal?'

'Looks like it.' Indy nodded. 'That magic blast must've done it to Kamau and Chinaza. I don't know what caused it in Adeola though.'

'You said most of this…' Marcus gestured to the journal. '…happened in the mid third century and they acquired the headpiece in the late? And they looked only a few years older?'

Indy shrugged. 'I don't know how, but I always know the year I'm looking at.'

**Drammen, Norway, 1104**

A man with blond hair and thick sideburns that nearly reached his chin was packing a sack. His uniform was that of a Crusader. A beautiful petite woman with bright red hair marched in. Her stomach was swelled in a way that showed she was pregnant.

The woman yelled at him in Old Norse. 'Sigurd, _this_ _is_ _insanity_! _What_ _are_ _you_ _hoping_ _to_ _achieve_ _in_ _the_ _Crusades_? _Glory_? _Power_? _Do_ _you_ _really_ _think_ _you_ _will_ _find_ _that_ _on_ _a_ _battlefield_?'

The man turned and smiled at her. '_Calm_ _down_, Ingfrid. _The_ _stress_ _you_ _have_ _here_ _will_ _only_ _upset_ _our_ _son_.' He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

Ingfrid retained her glare.

**Bedford, USA, 1927**

Indiana Jones opened his eyes. 'Interesting.'

* * *

AN: If you've read my story "The Royal Psalms", you'll recognise these OCs. This is me exploring or explaining them in a different way, depending on your point of view.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: All characters that actually exist in the Indiana Jones series belong to Lucas and Spielberg.

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**Chapter 2: Sigurd Dalen**

**Bedford, USA, 1927**

Marcus scratched his head. 'Sigurd in the Norwegian Crusades? I can look into it but I've never heard of him. Why a different man, though?'

'I guess there was a series of guys like this,' Indy said. 'I know the only guy who could tell me anything. I already called him too.'

Marcus turned his head as there was a knock at the front door and then the click of the doorknob. It was almost as if the person had timed himself. It soon turned out he had.

'Den?' someone called.

'Like you even have to ask,' Indy muttered.

Marcus listened to the footfalls until the door to the den opened and Indy's friend came in. He had shaggy brown hair and light brown eyes. He also only looked about eighteen years old. Yet Indy was saying he could tell them what this was all about.

'Nick, have you met Marcus?' Indy asked.

'Not yet,' the boy said.

Indy shrugged. 'Nick Balinger, Marcus Brody.' Indy sat at his desk. 'Nick, do you know the name Kamau Kawar?'

Nick smiled. 'Born and raised as a rice farmer in the city that is now known as El Jawf, Libya. Married Chinaza Gaube Jahmir and had five children, in order of birth, Adeola, Nafari, Zuberi, Babajide and Shani. During the rein of Emperor Gordian III he became a war guerrilla against an underworld dictator called Fiskal, who ran the city. However, in 245, a failed attack costing the lives of every guerrilla except Kamau, caused him to go home and turn to his wife. Chinaza then had him turn to the Shaman Behaze.' Nick slouched against the couch. 'In 254, Behaze was killed and the Kawar family, in turn, destroyed Fiskal and his own shaman.'

Marcus was amazed. This boy had just come in and told the abridged version of what Indy had seen over the past year. There had to be more to him than met the eye. In fact, it would explain why Indy had such faith in him.

Indy, on the other hand, rolled his eyes. 'You could've just said "yes".' It seemed he was more than accustomed to the boy.

Nick shrugged. 'Marcus needed a little demonstration.' He folded his hands behind his head. 'And, now Indy, the man you're looking at is called Sigurd Dalen.'

'Drammen, Norway, early twelfth century,' Indy said. 'I assume there's a series of these guys?'

'Six.' Nick nodded once. 'My bosses are sending you these replays of the past because of what happened with Marion.'

Now that had Marcus's interest. He watched Indy's face twist in pain before he turned away. Marcus knew he himself wouldn't have accepted what happened in those months if Indy wasn't so hurt by it. Sometimes, Marcus even thought Indy's pain transcended any that man should have to feel. In that case, of course, it was amazing that Indy didn't crumble up and lose himself to it.

Indy composed himself, averting his eyes. 'Marion? What's she got to do with it?'

'What did Kamau do a lot of from 240 until 245?' Nick asked.

'Blew things up,' Indy said. 'Whored around.'

Nick scowled at Indy. 'Apart from that.'

Indy frowned. 'Well, he left his wife a lot.'

'That's it,' Nick said. 'He left Chinaza. And what's Sigurd just done?'

'He left Ingfrid?' Indy guessed.

'And what did you do to Marion?'

Indy left her. From the look on his face, he'd worked it out just as Marcus had. Indy had unknowingly followed a pattern. And what that meant…it meant something had gone wrong with the pattern.

Indy looked up at Nick. 'So this is their way of telling me to go back?'

'Don't be stupid.' Nick grinned. 'You'd do that in your own time anyway. There were a few unknown factors this time. Abner being a big one. Usually a man that dedicated to his work and reputation will shunt his daughter off as a wife to the first guy that shows an interest. You know, get rid of her ASAP. So we weren't really prepared for him to go off his rocker instead.'

Indy sat back. 'Your bosses thought I'd be married to her by now?'

'Something like that,' Nick said. 'The other one was your itchy feet.'

'I beg your pardon?' Marcus asked.

Nick shook his head. 'Oh, "itchy feet" is an expression used later in this century. Someone with itchy feet gets very agitated if they're forced to stay in only place for a certain period of time.'

Used later in the century? Marcus smiled in amusement. 'That's Indy.'

Nick chuckled. 'Well, they underestimated the issues when dealing with people like that.' He got up and walked over to the liquor cabinet. He took the key off the top and opened the door. 'The others all worked from one place – El Jawf, Drammen. But that was fine. They needed to be in those places and those situations.'

'So I need to have itchy feet?' Indy asked.

'Yeah.' Nick pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. 'They just didn't think it'd also make you more scared of commitment than the others.'

Indy's back visibly straightened. 'I'm not scared of commitment.'

Nick scoffed and rolled his eyes. 'Please. Marion's not better off without you. It was just easier for you to tell yourself that. The same way it was easier for Kamau and Sigurd to say they needed to go off and wage war, rather than commit to their wives and kids.'

Indy grabbed his fedora and mashed it over his face.

Nick chuckled, setting the bottle down. He dug in his pocket. 'Little present for you.'

Indy tipped his hat back and Nick pulled out a slip of paper. 'Adeola is the first Holy Child. The guy Ingfrid was pregnant with is the second. This is the telegram number of the guy you'll see next. That particular family has a thing with justice. They like to know who all the tyrants are. This way, when you find out who the new bastards are, you can let them know.'

Indy took the number and looked at it. 'What's a Holy Child?'

Marcus was curious as well. He'd never heard of a Holy Child.

'They have a whole bunch of names.' Nick picked up the bottle again. '"The Blessed Ones". "The Firstborns".' He took a drink. 'You'll find out soon.' He smirked. 'Wait 'til 1933, then ask me again.' He headed out the door. 'I'm taking your whiskey. See you later.'

Once Marcus heard the door close behind Nick, he turned to Indy and asked, 'How did he know all of that?'

Indy sighed, leaned on the desk and rested his chin in his hand. 'Sovereign of the 20th Century. He knows everything without anyone telling him anything.'

**Drammen, Norway, 1105**

Ingfrid shook her head, looking puzzled as she spoke to the Crusaders. '_I_ _don't_ _know_. _He's_ _not_ _here_. _But_ _if_ _he's_ _deserted_, _why_ _would_ _he_ _come_ _back_ _here_? _I_ _would_ _think_ _this_ _would_ _be_ _the_ _first_ _place_ _you'd_ _look_. Sigurd _is_ _smart_ _enough_ _to_ _know_ _that_. _Why_ _don't_ _you_ _try_ _some_ _less_ _obvious_ _places_?'

The two men whispered to each other. Ingfrid could hear them anyway. They thought, as she was a woman, she was stupid enough not to realise the punishment her husband would be subjected to when caught.

One of them turned to her. '_Thank_ _you_ _for_ _your_ _cooperation_, Ingfrid Dalen. _A_ _message_ _will_ _be_ _sent_ _on_ _your_ _husband_. _You_ _may_ _go_.'

Ingfrid nodded in compliance and closed the door as they walked away. Her face darkened and she turned, storming into the house. She opened the curtain to the bedchamber and planted her hands on her hips.

Sigurd Dalen sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at the four year old boy, sound asleep, on the hay mattress. Sigurd looked haggard and dirty. He turned his eyes up to his wife.

'_I_ _told_ _you_ _he'd_ _be_ _a_ _boy_.' The lack of bravado in his voice almost made her falter.

Ingfrid shook her head. '_Why_ _did_ _you_ _desert_? _Leave_ _that_ _cursed_ _noble_ _cause_ _of_ _yours_?'

'_Would_ _you_ _prefer_ _me_ _back_ _there_?' Sigurd asked.

'_If_ _they_ _find_ _out_ _I'm_ _sheltering_ _you_, _they_ _will_ _kill_ _us_ _all_.' Ingfrid looked pointedly at their son. 'Andor _is_ _far_ _too_ _young_ _to_ _die_.'

Sigurd's face tightened and his gaze hardened. That look…Ingfrid had never seen such immovable determination on her husband's face before. He'd always treated life as a great big game.

And his voice was just as strong. '_I_ _am_ _not_ _going_ _to_ _let_ Andor _follow_ Brigit's _fate_.'

'Brigit?' It came together in Ingfrid's head. '_You_ _heard_.'

Sigurd nodded. '_My_ _father_ _wrote_ _me_. _At_ _first_ _I_ _didn't_ _understand_ _how_ _she_ _could_ _have_ _starved_ _to_ _death_. _Do_ _you_ _know_ _that_ _out_ _there_, _we_ _always_ _had_ _more_ _than_ _enough_ _to_ _eat_?' He got up and started pacing. '_When_ _I_ _heard_, _I_ _went_ _and_ _spoke_ _to_ _my_ _superior_. _I_ _asked_ _him_ _how_ _it_ _could_ _happen_ _when_ _we_ _had_ _more_ _than_ _enough_. _He_ _was_ _evasive_. _He_ _pretended_ _he_ _didn't_ _know_. _Then_ _I_ _checked_ _and_ _I_ _found_ _out_ _that_ _we_ _take_ _all_ _that_ _food_ _from_ _our own_ _people_.' He stopped. '_Do_ _you_ _know_ _what_ _that's_ _like_? _Finding_ _out_ _your_ _two_ _year_ _old_ _sister_ _died_ _because_ _you_ _were_ _taking_ _food_ _out_ _of_ _her_ _mouth_?'

As he'd been talking, the scowl had fallen from Ingfrid's face. She walked over and wrapped her arms around him. 'Sigurd, _you_ _weren't_ _taking_ _food_ _out_ _of_ Brigit's _mouth_. _They_ _were_. _The_ _Pope_ _and_ _King_ Olaf.'

Sigurd turned around and hugged his wife, burying his face in her shoulder. '_How_ _do_ _you_ _figure_ _that_?'

'_The_ _Pope_ _called_ _the_ _Crusades_,' Ingfrid said. '_Personally_, _I_ _think_ _he_ _just_ _wants_ _the_ _Holy_ _Lands_ _for_ _himself_.'

'Hm.' Sigurd kissed her shoulder. '_Sacrilege_.'

'_A_ _mortal_ _man_ _chosen_ _by_ _others_.' Ingfrid lowered her voice. '_I'm_ _Protestant_, _remember_?'

Sigurd nuzzled her neck. '_And_ _no_ _one_ _but_ _us_ _will_ _know_. _How_ _is_ _King_ Olaf _to_ _blame_?'

'_He's_ _the_ _one_ _who_ _decided_ _join_ _the_ _English_ _in_ _Jerusalem_. _And_ _then_ _took_ _the_ _food_ _from_ _his_ _own_ _people_.'

Sigurd scoffed. 'Olaf? _He_ _can't_ _even_ _decide_ _what_ _to_ _wear_ _of_ _a_ _morning_. _His_ _half_ _brothers_ _make_ _all_ _the_ _decisions_ _for_ _Norway_. _I'm_ _led_ _to_ _believe_ _the_ _one_ _that_ _decided_ _to_ _join_ _the_ _Crusades_ _shares_ _a_ _forename_ _with_ _me_.'

Ingfrid pulled back slightly and cupped her husband's cheek. '_You_ _have_ _a_ _conscience_ _though_. _You_ _came_ _back_ _because_ _you_ _didn't_ _want_ _to_ _continue_ _doing_ _that_ _to_ _people_, _once_ _you_ _knew_. _And_ _I_ _know_ _you_, Sigurd Dalen. _You_ _will_ _never_ _allow_ _that_ _to_ _happen_ _to_ _your_ _own_ _son_.'

'_Never_.' Sigurd looked down at the boy in question. '_I_ _just_ _don't_ _know_ _how_ _to_ _do_ _it_. _If_ _I_ _could_ _find_ _the_ _carts_ _they_ _transport_ _the_ _food_ _in_, _I_ _could_ _take_ _the_ _provisions_ _back_ _on_ _the_ _road_.'

Ingfrid smiled. 'Oh, _love_. _Don't_ _worry_ _about_ _that_. _Everyday_, _at_ _lunch_ _time_, _we_ _have_ _Crusaders_ _marching_ _in_ _and_ _taking_ _a_ _good_ _deal_ _of_ _the_ _food_ _we_ _have_. _Their_ _carts_ _go_ _right_ _through_ _the_ _centre_ _of_ _the_ _city_. _That_ _will_ _be_ _what_ _you're_ _looking_ _for_.'

Sigurd looked down at his wife. '_I_ _hit_ _the_ _gold_ _pot_.' He kissed her.

**Sinkiang, China, 1927**

Indiana Jones was half listening to Abner Ravenwood yelling at him and half concerned with the relic in his hands. Sick bastard, yadda, yadda. He was basically just telling him off for the affair, which would have been more fitting a year ago.

'…she had a brainless infatuation and you just took advantage of it!'

That got Indy's attention. 'Hold it!' He turned and looked up at Abner. 'Did you just say "brainless"?'

Abner drew back. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting Indy to interrupt him. 'There was no sense to it, Henry. It was brainless. Just because…'

Indy was on his feet and a hand clamped hard on Abner's shoulder before that sentence could come out. It was either the pain of Indy's grip or the look on his face that shut Abner up.

'Let me explain something to you, Abner.' Indy fought not to let his anger take control. Abner and anyone could insult Indy until the immortals dropped dead, but Marion was off-limits. 'Marion's a lot of things but brainless ain't one of them. On top of that there were a lotta people in high places – and I mean that in a paranormal way – who didn't care that a twenty-seven year old man had an affair with a seventeen year old girl. Actually, what they didn't like was my leaving her.'

Abner's adam's apple bobbed. 'And how would you know that?'

Indy let him go and turned away. 'I'm not sure you want to hear me talk for a few hours. A little word of advice though: as soon as I work this whole thing out, I'll be coming back for her.'

Air slipped through Abner's teeth in a hiss. 'You wouldn't.'

Indy turned and gave him a look. Then he turned and walked out.

Henry would.

Abner had seen it in that look. His eyes had been so determined. Henry would work out whatever it was and then he would come back for Marion. Nothing would stop him. Not even the eternal gates of hell.

And Marion…that silly girl would go with him. Even with the way she played up that hate, the way she claimed she was better off without him, Abner could see she still loved that bum. Marion would do anything for Henry Jones Junior. She would even follow him into the jaws of the Devourer.

Abner had to get her where he would never find her.

**Drammen, Norway, 1110**

The sword went in. She screamed, a short and sharp sound, as she went down. It was all she needed to get her husband's attention. He cut down his opponent and spun around. He saw her and his blue eyes widened.

'Ingfrid!'

Sigurd ran over, seeming to shoot across the distance. His sword cut through the home-based Crusader that'd stabbed her and he fell. Sigurd dropped down to his wife's side. He tore the cloak from his back and wrapped it around her, stopping as much of the blood flow as he could. She gasped in pain.

'Ingfrid?' Sigurd cupped her cheek. 'Ingfrid, look at me.'

Ingfrid opened her glazy eyes.

Sigurd paced up and down outside the room. He'd tried sitting but it didn't help. He had to move. He had to do something. He was the Lost Crusader. He was always doing one thing or another. He couldn't sit around passively.

Sigurd turned his head as the door – the wrong door – opened. Sigurd almost lashed out at Silje when he saw her bring his son in. Silje was a cousin and the one who usually looked after Andor when Sigurd and Ingfrid went to get the food and feed the masses.

Ingfrid went with him because she hated the thought of him working alone. And now she could die because of it. And then Silje had to go and bring Andor in. The five year old trotted over to Sigurd, arms outstretched.

'_Faðir_, _auntie_ _said_ _móðir_ _was_ _sick_,' he said.

Sigurd scooped his son up into his arms. '_She_ _is_, _but_ _she'll_ _be_ _just_ _fine_.'

'_Can_ _I_ _see_ _her_?' Andor asked.

Sigurd smiled forcibly. '_Not_ _yet_. _We_ _have_ _to_ _wait_ _for_ _now_.'

Sigurd continued pacing, rubbing his son's back until Andor fell asleep. Silje, with no apparent sense of self-preservation, stayed the whole time. Sigurd stood in front of her, scowling.

'_You_ _told_ _him_.'

Silje looked up at him in confusion. '_His_ _móðir's_ _only_ _ill_. _There_ _was_ _no_ _problem_ _telling_ _him_ _that_. _She_ _will_ _get_ _better_.'

Sigurd's gaze darkened. '_It's_ _those_ _like_ _you_ _who_ _give_ _women_ _the_ _reputation_ _of_ _being_ _stupid_. _Do_ _you_ _know_ _what_ _a_ _euphemism_ _is_, Silje?'

Silje slowly shook her head. '_No_…'

'_I_ _didn't_ _think_ _so_.' Sigurd huffed. To be fair, she was totally uneducated and happily simple-minded, but he wasn't in the mood to be fair. '_It's_ _when_ _you_ _say_ _one_ _thing_ _to_ _cover_ _up_ _something_ _much_ _more_ _severe_. Ingfrid _is_ _not_ _ill_. _I_ _was_ _being_ _subtle_. _She_ _was_ _run_ _through_. _You_ _know_ _what_ _we_ _do_. _You_ _should_ _know_ _that_ "_ill_" _means_ "_wounded_".'

Silje's hands went over her mouth.

Sigurd shook his head. '_No_ _time_ _for_ _that_. _Take_ _care_ _of_ Andor.' He laid his sleeping son in her arms. Turned out, that was the only thing she was really good at. Then he turned and walked to the door to Ingfrid's room. Now he was going to have to ensure Ingfrid was fine. He would not give his son false hope.

Sigurd had to do it. While he'd been in the Holy Land, he'd encountered a magic rock. He had had taken that rock and carried it around with him as a reminder. Now, he desperately hoped the power was true.

The physician opened the door. '_I'm_ _afraid_ _your_ _wife_ _will_ _not_ _make_ _it_, _sir_.'

Sigurd nodded once. '_May_ _I_ _see_ _her_?'

The physician nodded and stepped aside. Sigurd walked in. He closed the door behind him and Ingfrid looked up. Tears were tracking down her cheeks as she laid in the bed where the physician had been operating on her. He walked over and kissed her.

'_Did_ _he_ _tell_ _you_?' Ingfrid asked.

'_He_ _thinks_ _you_ _will_ _die_,' Sigurd said.

'_Y_…' Ingfrid looked at him. '_He_ _thinks_?'

Sigurd reached into his pouch and pulled out a small stone with ancient carvings all over it. '_I_ _found_ _this_ _in_ _the_ _Holy_ _Lands_. _They_ _said_ _it_ _could_ _heal_ _mortal_ _wounds_.'

'_But_?' Ingfrid was smarter than most men Sigurd knew. A contrast from her sister.

'_But_ _it_ _does_ _have_ _consequences_ _for_ _the_ _user_ _and_ _the_ _person_ _healed_,' Sigurd said. '_We_ _will_ _both_ _lose_ _our_ _mortality_ _later_. _If_ _it_ _is_ _true_, _I'm_ _leaving_ _the_ _decision_ _up_ _to_ _you_.'

Ingfrid stared at the rock. Sigurd knew what she was thinking about. Andor. Could they watch him grow up and then grow old and die while they stayed young? On the other hand, if she didn't then she would die. And Ingfrid knew, as well as he did, that Sigurd wouldn't be able to handle that.

'_Do_ _it_.'

**Niger, Mali, 1927**

Indiana Jones opened his eyes and tipped his fedora back. The African night sky hung above him and he hung in the native hammock, his hands folded behind his head. 'Huh.' Indy tipped his head back and a snake came into view.

'Uh!' Indy tried to twist away from it and fell from the hammock, landing on the forest floor a few meters down. He watched the snake slither away and breathed a sigh of relief. He hated snakes.

Indy moved his mind back to the latest showing. Sigurd and Ingfrid had become immortal. They were immortal, just like Kamau and Chinaza. So they may just have met. That was clear. It was just Adeola he was unsure on.

**Venice, Italy, 1169**

Andor Dalen had the same long sideburns that his father did in the same red colour of his mother. The stone tablet, wrapped in cloth was light as a feather to him. He looked across at the black woman, the one that had introduced herself as Adeola Kawar. She'd just told him he was a Holy Child.

'_And_ _what's_ _a_ _Holy_ _Child_?' Andor asked.

'_The_ _firstborn_ _child_ _of_ _men_ _like_ _our_ _fathers_.' Adeola spoke in Norwegian. A courtesy to him, Andor assumed. Adeola raised her eyebrows. '_You_ _are_ _the_ _son_ _of_ Sigurd Dalen, _are you not_?'

'_Yes_, _I_ _am_.'

'_I_ _am_ _a_ _Holy_ _Child_ _because_ _my_ _baba_ _took down_ _a_ _dictator_ _who_ _was_ _destroying_ _peoples'_ _lives_,' she said. '_You_, _because_ _kings_ _took_ _food_ _from_ _the_ _starving_ _and_ _your_ _baba_ _stood_ _up_, _took_ _the_ _food_ _back_ _and_ _gave_ _it_ _to_ _those_ _who_ _needed_ _it_ _most_.'

Andor nodded, accepting the point. '_So_ _what_ _does_ _it_ _mean_ _to_ _be_ _a_ _Holy_ _Child_?'

'_When_ _we_ _reach_ _maturity_, _we_ _gain_ _superhuman_ _strength_.' Adeola gestured to the tablet tucked under Andor's arm. She chuckled. '_And_ _then_, _when_ _we_ _leave_ _behind_ _the_ _last_ _vestiges_ _of_ _childhood_, _we_ _stop_ _ageing_. _This_ _is_ _why_ _you_ _are_ _no_ _older_ _than_ _that_.'

'_How_ _many_ _of_ _us_ _are_ _there_?' Andor asked.

'_Just_ _you_ _and_ _I_.'

Andor shook his head. '_Then_ _how_ _do_ _you_ _know_ _this_?'

'_Because_ _of_ _this_.' Adeola pulled a scroll from the folds of her dress and opened it up. '_This_ _is_ _the_ _prophecy_ _of_ _the_ _Holy_ _Children_. _There_ _shall_ _be_ _seven_ _in_ _all_. _As_ _it_ _says_ _for_ _me_, "_born_ _upon_ _dirt_, _so_ _close_ _to_ _Christ_". _I_ _was_ _born_ _in_ Berber _in_ _a_ _dust_ _bowl_ _of_ _a_ _city_. _In_ _effect_, _we_ _are_ _extremely_ _close_ _to_ _your_ _Christian_ _Israel_. _My_ _second_ _line_ _is_, "_father_, _learn_ _magic_ _for_ _justice_".'

'_Magic_?' Andor asked. '_Well_, _I_ _would_ _be_ _the_ _last_ _one_ _to_ _mock_ _magic_. _That_ _is_ _what_ _gave_ _my_ _parents_ _eternal_ _life_. _Is_ _that_ _in_ _Hebrew_?'

Adeola nodded. '_Indeed_ _it_ _is_.'

'_I'm_ _afraid_ _I'm_ _not_ _yet_ _fluent_.' Andor grinned sheepishly. '_What_ _are_ _my_ _lines_?'

Adeola chuckled and turned the prophecy so she could read it. '_Your_ _first_ _line_ _is_, "_born_ _into_ _war_, _hungry_ _they_ _be_" _and_ _your_ _second_, "_the_ _sire_, _the_ _deserter_".' She looked up at him. '_And_ _I_ _understand_ _why_ _your_ _baba_ _deserted_.'

Andor smiled and nodded once. '_Well_, _now_ _that_ _we've_ _met_, _why_ _don't_ _we_ _introduce_ _our_ _families_?'

Adeola chuckled. '_Good_ _idea_.' She glanced down at the tablet. '_Now_, _do_ _you_ _mind_ _if_ _I_ _ask_ _a_ _question_?'

'_You_ _just_ _did_.' A grin tugged at Andor's lips. '_What_ _would_ _you_ _like_ _to_ _know_?'

'_What_ _is_ _that_?' Adeola pointed to the covered object under Andor's arm.

'_This_?' Andor pulled it out and uncovered it, revealing an ancient language written. '_Half_ _of_ _the_ _stone_ _tablet_ _that_ _points_ _you_ _in_ _the_ _direction_ _of_ _the_ _Holy_ _Grail_.'

**Athens, Greece, 1928**

That was the only time Indiana Jones ever woke up laughing.


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: All characters that actually exist in the Indiana Jones series belong to Lucas and Spielberg.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Robin Hood**

**London, England, 1928**

Indy sat in the library, going through every book he knew. He was looking for something on the Holy Children but he was coming up empty. On the other hand, he was finding accounts – official ones – from Libya, Norway and England about supernatural beings with human appearances. Things like "inhuman speed and strength" and "highly skilled warriors" jumped out at him. Indy had kept to the countries where Adeola, Andor and now the third one was.

'Henry Jones Junior?'

Indy turned around. 'Hello, Ox.' Ox's face was tight. Indy guessed. 'Still mad at me about what happened with Marion, huh?'

'I still don't know how you could do it,' Ox said. 'She was just a child. You were her first love and then you broke her heart.'

'That's between me and her, isn't it?' Indy asked. 'Should be…' He flipped the book in front of him closed and pushed it away. 'Sit down. Obviously, I need to explain this to you.'

'There's very little to explain, Henry,' Ox said. 'All I want to know is why you did it.'

'That's cute.' Indy looked him right in the eye. 'You're talking as if I had a say in the matter.'

Ox's frown turned into an expression of complete bewilderment, eyes widening and jaw dropping slightly. 'I beg your pardon?'

Indy understood the confusion. He didn't usually admit when he had no control over a situation. In fact, he hated to do that. And he was doing it now. Ox shook his head. 'From the beginning please, Henry?'

'Turns out that there are some guys in high places who didn't really mind the affair,' Indy said. 'They did mind how we split, though.'

If possible, Ox looked even more confused than before. 'Who and how do they know?'

'That would be my bosses.'

Indy grinned when he heard Nick behind him. 'Harold Oxley, Nick Balinger. Nick's the Sovereign of the 20th Century.'

'What does that mean?' Ox watched Nick as he sat down with them.

Nick explained. 'The purpose of the Sovereign is to preserve reality for the duration of their tenure, which is listed in the title. We're chosen before we're even born for various reasons. Strength of character is the biggest one. I was chosen because of my resources and my sense of judgement. When the next Sovereign is eight, they're taken care of and trained by the current one.'

Ox scratched his wrist, a nervous habit he had when he encountered something he didn't know what to do with. 'So…why do you use the plural? The one you have to answer to would be…God? Or is it God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit?'

Nick chuckled. 'The higher powers. Actually, to be honest, they're the same thing as the Holy Trinity. That's just what mortal man calls them. In early 1914 they told me to, for lack of a better phrase, introduce myself to Indy here. That's how he found out that people can become immortal.'

'So you're not really the eighteen years you look?' Ox asked.

'I'm forty-six.' Nick put his feet up onto the table, ignoring the glare of the librarian. 'It's not something I'd recommend.'

'I don't imagine so,' Ox said. 'So how does this tie into Henry and Marion?'

'My bosses actually facilitated their meeting,' Nick explained. 'They knew what did happen would. What happened was not what Abner thinks. Indy didn't take a brainless infatuation and twist it to his own purposes. As a matter of fact, they both tried to fight it back, they tried to resist it.'

Indy averted his eyes. This was weakness to him. Nick couldn't lie, part of his powers as the Sovereign, and he knew everything.

Nick continued. 'The connection there was stronger than they could ever be. And this time apart will only make it stronger.'

'Should I be scared?' Indy asked.

'Wait until you've talked to Kamau and the others before you decide that,' Nick said.

'Sounds good to me,' Indy agreed.

Nick glanced up. 'Speaking of bosses, they want a word with me.' He stood up. 'See you later.' He turned and walked out of the library.

Ox rubbed his temple. 'I'm sorry, Henry.'

Indy shrugged it off. 'Never mind. It looks that bad from a mortal viewpoint. Hell, even I was hating myself until Nick and his bosses decided to interfere.'

'Does this tie into who Kamau is?' Ox asked.

'Dictator Fiskal had a problem that was wiped from all official records,' Indy said.

'Is this the fellow who worked for the Roman Empire in Berber in the mid third century?' Ox asked.

'One and the same.' Indy smiled. 'You remember Marcus Brody? He managed to get his hands on Fiskal's journal, the only place where there was a record of this guy.'

'And it was this Kamau fellow?' Ox asked.

'Kamau Kawar, yes.' Indy nodded. 'Before they knew who he was, they called him the Witch Guerrilla because he used magic.' Ox was one of the few people Indy would tell that to.

Ox looked curious. 'And what put you onto this?'

'I said that Nick and his bosses interfered,' Indy said. 'That's how. They started making me watch certain parts of Kamau's life. When they finished with him, they moved onto the next guy, also removed from the records, called Sigurd Dalen.'

'And what did he do?' Ox asked.

'He was a Norwegian Crusader until his sister starved to death.' Indy scowled out the window. 'Did you know that those guys ate well because their monarchy took the food from the people of Norway and gave it to the Crusaders? Sigurd found that out and deserted. He went home and started taking the food back. Way they saw it, the English ate without stealing food from their people. Norwegians could do it too.'

'They?' Ox asked.

Indy grinned. 'Sigurd and Kamau both had the support of their wives. But while Kamau had five kids, Sigurd only had one. Turns out, both of their firstborns became Holy Children.' Indy nodded to the pile of books. 'Which is what I was looking up here.'

'What's a Holy Child?' Ox looked at the books curiously.

'There's a prophecy carried around by Kamau's one – his daughter, Adeola.' Indy chuckled. 'There's meant to be seven. I'm up to three. When they reach maturity, or stop growing, they gain superhuman strength and when the last features of childhood leave their bodies, they stop ageing.'

'I see.' Ox seemed to think on that for a few moments. 'So the firstborn children of these men are still alive?'

Indy shrugged. 'Yeah. Nick's gonna have me meet them later on.'

'That should be interesting.' Ox looked at Indy. 'Wait, you said you were up to three. That's only two. Should I understand that at this current point in time, you're looking at the third man?'

Indy nodded, grinning.

'Is this amusing?' Ox asked. 'Who is it?'

'Robin Hood,' Indy said.

Ox's eyes bugged. 'Robin Hood? The real one?'

'Yes.'

'You're seeing the truth behind the myth?'

'Yes.'

Ox leaned forward on the desk eagerly. 'Well, Henry. Share. What really happened?'

Indy leaned back in the chair. 'Turns out Maid Marion was real, except she was actually called Malle.'

'Isn't "Malle" the medieval English version of "Marion"?' Ox asked. 'How interesting. Go on.'

'Well, Robin Hood was actually a Nobleman. He went off to the Crusades with King Richard when he was betrothed to her.'

Ox rubbed the bridge of his nose. 'Oh, Lord above. I will never again complain about what you did. How did she react when he returned?'

Indy linked his fingers and twiddled his thumbs. 'Exactly the way I imagine Marion Ravenwood will react to me when I go back to her – angry as hell.'

Ox nodded. 'Yes, that girl does have a rather short temper, doesn't she?' He looked at Indy. 'You do have intent to go back, then?'

'Of course I do,' Indy said. 'Just as soon as I work out what I have to do with the Holy Children for this to apply to me.'

Ox's brow furrowed. He went to say something but shook his head. Then he said, 'How long do you intend to work for Marion's forgiveness?'

Indy shrugged. 'Well, Robin worked a year and a half for Malle's. Then she was kidnapped and taken to the Holy Lands because she found out about a plot to kill King Richard. She was going to tell Robin but she never got that far. He found out and followed them.'

'So what happened?' Ox asked. 'How did it go?'

'All right, honestly,' Indy said. 'They saved the King but Malle was stabbed in the gut. Thing was, it happened on the bank of the Jordan River and she fell in. Robin had to fish her out. She survived, but they didn't think she'd be able to have any kids.' Indy grinned. 'But, what I'm watching right now, they're back in Sherwood and she's pregnant.'

Ox's eyes widened. 'Pregnant? After she's been stabbed in the stomach and in the Dark Ages?' He breathed out a laugh. 'That sounds rather like divine intervention. So a third Holy Child. I suppose if she's only pregnant you wouldn't know the name?'

'Regardless of whether it's a boy or girl, they're calling it Jordan,' Indy said.

Ox chuckled. 'And what exactly are you taking away from this, Henry? It all seems so pointless.'

'There's a point to it,' Indy said. 'I just don't know what it is yet. I can tell you one thing, though. There's nothing really incredible about real heroes. They're not the role models that kids see. They're normal men, as deeply flawed as anyone else, who just get thrown into the worst situations and refuse to tolerate them.'

Harold Oxley walked home through the London streets in the evening. His umbrella shielded him from the rain. As he walked, his mind went over what Henry had told him. Kamau Kawar. Sigurd Dalen. Robin Hood.

_They're normal men, as deeply flawed as anyone else, who just get thrown into the worst situations and refuse to tolerate them._ Henry had spoken the words but he didn't see the significance. Harold had seen Henry when something unjust happened. He spoke out, he refused to tolerate it. He would even physically fight against it. And Henry, too, was deeply flawed. He was selfish and single-minded to the point of obsession. Marion Ravenwood was a prime example of that. He took her into his arms for selfish reasons and he walked away for selfish reasons, although Harold could no long fault Henry for the former.

Henry Jones Junior was a hero. He just didn't see it.

_Turns out, both of their firstborns became Holy Children._ These fellows, Kamau and Sigurd. Likely Robin Hood as well. And Henry was just like them. He was a hero too. That meant something that Harold dare not say to his face. He knew how much it would terrify Henry, but he would realise it at some point.

The odds were in favour of it. That had to be the connection that Henry could not see. And the mother, Harold knew, could only be Marion Ravenwood. Why else would such powers take an interest when Henry left her?

Henry and Marion would be the parents of the next Holy Child.

**Nottinghamshire, England, 1194**

Laboured breathing filled the cave that was lit only by flame torches. Malle breathed in and out, trying to control it. Beside her, Robin Hood held her hand and stroked her hair. A small group worked to deliver the child as safely as possible in their conditions.

'Robin!' Will Scarlet ran over. '_The_ _Sheriff's_ _men_ _are_ _massing_ _on_ _us_!' The language of Medieval English was less evolved than the English spoken in the twentieth century.

Robin hissed out of his teeth. 'Tuck, _I_ _need_ _you_ _to_ _deliver_ Jordan. _The_ _rest_ _of_ _you_ _men_, _take_ _up_ _positions_. _We_ _cannot_ _let_ _them_ _in_ _here_.'

Malle gasped. 'Robin, _you_ _need_ _to_ _go_ _too_.'

Robin looked down at her. She reached up and cupped his cheek.

Malle explained herself between pained gasps. 'Jordan…Jordan _is_ _the_ _priority_ _here_. _We_ _cannot_…ah! ..._we_ _cannot_ _let_ _what_ _we_ _want_ _compromise_ _that_. _You_ _were_ _trained_ _by_ _the_ _King's_ _men_. _You_ _have_ _the_ _best_ _hope_ _of_ _stopping_ _them_.'

Tuck spoke up. '_She_ _is_ _correct_, Robin. _If_ _you_ _wish_ _to_ _save_ _your_ _child_, _you_ _must_ _fight_.'

Robin looked up at Tuck and then down at his wife. He kissed her forehead. '_I'll_ _be_ _back_ _soon_, _my_ _love_.'

Robin grabbed his bow and arrow and stood up, leading his men out into the forest. They spread and prepared their weapons. Robin was not going to let anything happen to his wife and child.

A cloaked figure sat in a tree, watching the fight. The green eyes watched as the outlaws were slowly cornered. The figure tilted forward as the sound of an infant's cry pierced the air. A few of the Sheriff's men moved towards the cave but this concealed person lined up a shot and fired.

The arrow struck the guard right in the neck, killing him dead. All those in the area turned in the direction of the archer. A cloaked figure swung down from one of the trees and landed firmly.

The Sheriff's men charged at the figure but whoever it was used the bow in their hands as a quarterstaff, slamming it into the men, knocking them down. One of the men drew his sword and swung it at the figure, aiming for the neck.

The figure moved forward and the blade only caught the hood of the cloak, tearing it away to reveal the face and cutting long golden hair to shoulder length. The woman, no older than nineteen, spun around and stabbed him in the gut. She drew back and used the shock of the men to inspect the newly cropped ends of her hair.

'Hm,' she mused. '_Instant_ _haircut_.'

'Fionnghuala!' Robin snapped. '_What_ _are_ _you_ _doing_?'

The woman looked at him. '_I_ _should_ _think_ _that_ _was_ _rather_ _obvious_, Robin. _I'm_ _saving_ _your_ _lives_.' She pulled three daggers from her skirt and let them fly. They spun through the air and imbedded themselves in the necks of three more of the Sheriff's men.

Robin and his men spun around, taking advantage of the distraction, and quickly killed the remaining four men. Then Robin turned back to Fionnghuala. She folded her hands behind her back sheepishly. Robin marched over.

'_Where_ _have_ _you_ _been_ _for_ _the_ _past_ _five_ _years_?' he demanded.

Fionnghuala said only one word. 'Gisbourne.'

'_Wha_…oh.' The anger faded from Robin's face. '_He's_ _the_ _one_ _that_ _killed_ _our_ _brothers_.'

Fionnghuala scowled. '_And_ _I_ _had_ _the_ _misfortune_ _of_ _walking_ _in_ _at_ _the_ _end_.' She turned her eyes away. '_And_ _I_ _ran_. _I_ _didn't_ _know_ _where_ _I_ _was_ _going_ _and_ _I_ _didn't_ _care_. _I_ _just_ _ran_. _I_ _got_ _all_ _the_ _way_ _up_ _to_ _Dunbar_ _in_ _Scotland_ _before_ _I_ _passed_ _out_ _from_ _exhaustion_.'

'_What_ _happened_ _then_?' Will asked.

Fionnghuala glanced up at him before she answered. '_I_ _was_ _found_ _by_ _a_ _woman_ _called_ Myra McTavern. _She_…' She shook her head. '_Anyway_, _she_ _helped_ _me_. _I_ _only_ _just_ _got_ _back_.' There was a single twitch in Fionnghuala's face.

Robin nodded. '_Welcome_ _home_.' He turned around and laid a hand on her shoulder, now addressing his men. '_Lads_, _this_ _is_ _my_ _younger_ _sister_, Fionnghuala.'

They all looked amongst one another and then grinned. Robin smiled. 'Fionnghuala, _you_ _remember_ Will Scarlet?'

'_The_ _carpenter's_ _boy_,' Fionnghuala said. '_How_ _could_ _I_ _forget_?' She shook his hand. '_You_ _look_ _well_.'

'_All_ _things_ _considered_, _I_ _am_,' Will said. '_You_ _look_ _well_ _for_ _what_ _happened_ _to_ _you_.'

Fionnghuala nodded. '_You can recover from anything if you're given the right sort of help_.'

Robin pressed his lips together before he moved on. '_And_ Much.'

'Ah, _yes_,' Fionnghuala shook his hand too. '_The_ _miller's_ _son_. _We_ _didn't_ _see_ _much_ _of_ _you_, _did_ _we_?'

'_A_ _miller_ _needs_ _to_ _work_ _all_ _day_,' Much said. '_I'm_ _afraid I wasn't able to leave very often_.'

'_Perfectly_ _understandable_.' Fionnghuala said.

Robin moved onto the man who could easily be a giant. '_This_ _is_ _Little_ John.'

Fionnghuala looked up at him and smiled. '_I_ _hope_ _you_ _take_ _no_ _offence_, _but_ _that's_ _an_ _oxymoron_.'

'_A_ _what_?' John asked.

Robin chuckled. '_Something_ _that_ _contradicts_ _itself_. _Two_ _things_ _that_ _mean_ _the_ _opposite_ _in_ _the_ _same_ _person_, _object_ _or_ _sentence_.'

'Oh.' John smiled. '_No_ _offence_ _taken_. _It's_ _true_.'

Robin brought his sister to the last man. '_And_ _this_ _is_ Allan A Dale, _the_ _minstrel_.'

'_One_ _would_ _never_ _know_,' Fionnghuala told Alan. '_You fight very well_.'

'_As_ _do_ _you_, _my_ _Lady_,' Alan said.

Fionnghuala chuckled and waved it off. '_Please_! _I_ _was_ _raised_ _by_ _three_ _lads_ _with_ _no_ _inclination_ _of_ _how_ _to_ _rear_ _a_ _girl_ _into_ _womanhood_. _Toward_ _that_ _end_, _I_ _was_ _taught_ _fighting_, _not_ _embroidery_.' She raised her head and listened. 'Robin, _that_ _crying_. _Am_ _I_ _right_ _in_ _assuming_ _that_ _infant is_ _yours_?'

Robin beamed. '_That's_ _right_!'

'_Oh_, _I'm_ _an_ _auntie_!' Fionnghuala clapped in delight. 'Malle?'

Robin scoffed at her. '_Who else on earth would I marry_?'

**York, England, 1928**

Indy was walking through the museum went he found it. It was settled under glass, an old newspaper article about the fall of one of the city's most powerful men. He'd been found corrupt and to have organised the deaths of all four of his late wives for the money that would automatically go to him when they died.

It was written sometime in the mid eighteenth century, one of York's most famous stories. The photograph with it was what got his attention. This guy was glaring over his shoulder at a young fair-haired woman, who was serenely watching him get arrested. She was standing with a group of police officers, but that wasn't what got his attention. It was the fact that he recognised her. And the face was clear. That was Fionnghuala. Indy remembered when she'd first shown up.

There had been a twitch on her face. It wasn't much but Indy knew it wasn't for nothing. And now he knew what it was for. Between leaving Scotland and arriving back in Nottinghamshire, Fionnghuala had become immortal.

Indy sucked in a breath. 'Oh, Jesus Christ.'

Part of the caption caught Indy's eye: …in the background, Mr. Josel's intended next victim, Miss Penelope Hood.

She'd changed her forename.

**Drammen, Norway, 1219**

Andor Dalen was flicking through documents in his father's study when there was a knock at the door. 'Come.'

Andor smiled when he saw Fionnghuala Hood step in and his interest was piqued at the young man that followed her. He had light brown hair and blue eyes. Dressed like the yeoman that Fionnghuala's family was.

'Andor, _your_ _parents_ _said_ _you'd_ _be_ _here_,' Fionnghuala said. '_Would_ _you_ _mind_ _terribly_ _if_ _we_ _spoke_ _English_? _I'm_ _afraid_ _my_ _nephew_ _doesn't_ _yet_ _speak_ _Norse_.'

Andor stood, smiled and spoke in their language. '_Of_ _course_ _not_.' He addressed Jordan. '_I'm_ Andor Dalen. _You_ _are_?'

Jordan smiled back. '_My_ _name_ _is_ Jordan Hood. _My_ _auntie_ _here_ _said_ _I_ _needed_ _to_ _talk_ _to_ _you_ _about_ _something_. _She_ _wouldn't_ _clarify_, _though_.'

'_I_ _see_.' Andor stood. '_I_ _would_ _first_ _like_ _you_ _to_ _believe_ _that_ _there_ _is_ _a_ _purpose_ _behind_ _the_ _third_ _degree_. _Who_ _is_ _your_ _fóðir_?'

Jordan looked at Fionnghuala.

'_Father_,' she said.

Jordan drew himself up proudly. '_My_ _father_ _is_ Robin Hood.'

'_That_ _lovely_ _fellow_ _from_ _Nottinghamshire_ _who_ _takes_ _from_ _the_ _rich_ _and_ _gives_ _to_ _the_ _poor_ _and_ _needy_?' Andor asked.

Jordan nodded. '_As_ _he_ _is_.'

'_My_ _fóðir_ _did_ _something_ _of_ _the_ _sort_ _when_ _it_ _was_ _necessary_,' Andor said. '_You_ _see_, _our_ _former_ _King_ _took_ _food_ _from_ _the_ _starving_ _here_ _in_ _Norway_ _and_ _gave_ _it_ _to_ _our_ _Crusaders_. _Food_ _from_ _the_ _mouths_ _of_ _babies_. _Fóðir_ _was_ _a_ _Crusader_ _until_ _my_ _own_ _aunt_, _no_ _older_ _than_ _two_, _died_ _from_ _the_ _treatment_. _Then_ _he_ _found_ _out_ _about_ _it_. _He_ _took_ _that_ _food_ _and_ _he_ _gave_ _it_ _back_.' Andor perched himself on his desk. '_And that is why Fionnghuala brought you_ _here_.'

Jordan paused and then shook his head. '_I'm_ _afraid_ _I_ _don't_ _follow_.'

'_It's_ _because_ _of_ _what_ _our_ _fóðirs_ _are_,' Andor said. '_How_ _they_ _love_ _and_ _how_ _they_ _try_. _It_ _makes_ _us_, _their_ _firstborn_ _child_, _one_ _of_ _the_ _Blessed_ _Ones_.'

'_The_ _Blessed_ _Ones_?' Jordan asked.

'_Or_, _if_ _you_ _want_ _the_ _actual_ _name_…' Andor grinned. 'Jordan Hood, _you_ _are_ _a_ _Holy_ _Child_.'

**Bedford, USA, 1929**

The book was full of photographs. Wherever Kamau, Chinaza and Adeola Kawar had been sighted, if Sigurd, Ingfrid and Andor Dalen had been seen and when Penny, formerly Fionnghuala, and Jordan Hood had been spotted, there were also photographs and sketches. And Indy collected them all. He collected them and he put them in this book.

No labels on the covers or the pages. That way, no sticky noses would know they were anything other than a curiosity. At that moment, though, none of those kinds could even get to the book.

Indy had fallen asleep at the desk, over it.

**Loxley, England, 1247**

The gravestone stood apart at Saint Kirklees Abbey. Jordan Hood walked out of the woods, followed by his Auntie Fionnghuala. They crossed the graveyard to that headstone. On it were two names.

LORD ROBYN HODE OF LOXLEY

LADY MALLE HODE OF LOXLEY

BORN DURING THE REIGN OF HIS ROYAL MAJESTY KING HENRY II AND HER ROYAL GRACE QUEEN ELENOR OF AQUITAINE

DIED DURING THE REIGN OF HIS ROYAL MAJESTY KING JOHN I

Jordan set down flowers on the grave. 'John's _name_ _shouldn't_ _be_ _on_ _this_. _He_ _was_ _the_ _cause_ _of_ _most_ _of_ _their_ _problems_.' He glanced at his auntie. '_Did_ _you_ _check_ Emily? _How_ _is_ _she_ _holding_ _up_?'

Fionnghuala chuckled. '_You_ _know_ _you're_ _exactly_ _the_ _kind_ _of_ _brother_ _that_ _your_ _father_ _was_. _Our_ _little_ Emilia _is_ _just_ _fine_. _She_ _didn't_ _see_ _me_.' The grin fell off her face and was replaced by a sad look. '_I_ _actually_ _wish_ _she_ _could_ _have_ _done_.'

'_But_ _we're_ _immortal_, _auntie_,' Jordan said. '_You_ _taught_ _me_ _this_.'

'_I_ _did_.' Fionnghuala nodded once. '_If_ _mortals_ _know_ _about_ _our_ _longevity_, _most_ _will_ _either_ _covet_ _it_ _or_ _fear_ _it_. _And_ _you_ _know_ _what_ _fear_ _does_ _to_ _these_ _people_.'

Jordan screwed up his nose. '_We_ _should_ _probably_ _get_ _some_ _kind_ _of_ _insurance_ _against_ _fire_ _if_ _we_ _did_ _that_.'


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: All characters that actually exist in the Indiana Jones series belong to Lucas and Spielberg.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Yoshida Hisoka**

**Bedford, USA, 1929**

Indy swilled the brandy before he swallowed it. 'I suppose it was kinda stupid of me not to think of it before.'

Across from him, Marcus raised his eyebrows. 'I wouldn't say that. It seems like the kind of thing you'd only think of if you actually became immortal.'

'What, that you'd have to watch everyone grow old and die around you while you stayed young?' Indy shook his head. 'No, I don't think so. And…' His brow furrowed.

'What's really bothering you?' Marcus asked.

Indy took a sip. 'What if I'm next?'

'Next to be immortalised?' Marcus asked. 'Don't jump to conclusions, Indy.'

'I'm not,' Indy said. 'Immortals don't like telling mortals about themselves. But that was one of the first things Nick told me when we met. He actually said "I'm immortal". And these guys…every time someone becomes immortal. Why would a mortal man be allowed to see this stuff unless…' He trailed off.

Marcus tried to reassure him. 'You can't just assume that's the reason.'

'Can't I?' Indy demanded, hand tightening around the glass. 'You do remember that my father's been looking for the Holy Grail since long before I was born. And that's the sure fire way to become immortal.'

'But you told me yourself,' Marcus said. 'The Dalens took possession of half of the required tablet. Henry won't find the Grail without Andor's help. Neither will anyone else.'

Indy scowled at his drink. 'I can still think of ways for people to get to it.'

They were both silent for a long moment.

'Have you moved onto the next one?' Marcus apparently went for a topic change.

'Yes, I have.' Indy chuckled to himself. 'First guy that watched the corruption happen alongside his wife and kid. Didn't run off all half-cocked.'

'Oh, really?' Marcus asked, interested. 'What's his name?'

'Hisoka.'

**Akita, Japan, 1375**

Yoshida Hisoka left the bodies of men he would once have called his comrades behind him. Cradled on his arm, curled up in a blanket and held to his chest, was Hisoka's young son and only child, Yuichi. The three year old boy was fast asleep.

Hisoka cut through the city until he came to a building. He opened the doors and marched inside. Without any hesitation, Hisoka climbed up the stairs, walked down the hallway and entered a bedchamber.

The bed curtains were pushed aside and a woman of small stature looked out. 'Hisoka? _Is_ Yuichi…?' She spoke in their native Japanese tongue.

Hisoka answered in kind as he laid the toddler on the bed with his wife. '_He's_ _fine_, Chiasa. '_Scared_ _and_ _a_ _little_ _bruised_ _but_ _no_ _worse_ _for_ _wear_. _No_ _permanent_ _damage_. _Nothing_ _that_ _wouldn't_ _come_ _from_ _his_ _own_ _wilful_ _fun_.'

Chiasa hugged her son. '_You_ _swear_ _to_ _the_ Sennin?'

'_The_ Sennin _and_ _the_ _Gods_ _if_ _so_ _you_ _please_, _my_ _darling_.' Hisoka turned away and started pulling off his armour. '_The_ _boy_ _is_ _tough_, _just_ _like_ _his_ _old_ _chichi_.'

Chiasa cleared her throat pointedly. Hisoka looked at her, pouting. She nodded down to her bandaged torso and ribs.

'_Very_ _well_.' Hisoka huffed. '_Most_ _of_ _it_ _comes_ _from_ _his_ _haha_.' He walked over to her and sat down. He reached up and turned her loose hair behind her ear. '_You_ _know_, Chiasa, _most_ _wives_ _let_ _their_ _husbands_ _believe_ _in_ _their_ _assumed_ _superiority_.'

'_That_ _may_ _be_ _true_, _my_ _Samurai_.' Chiasa reached up and curled her fingers around her husband's. '_But_ _you_ _like_ _to_ _know_ _your_ _limits_. _You_ _like_ _to_ _remember_ _that_ _you_ _are_, _after_ _all_, _only_ _human_. _You_ _are_ _fallible_. _You_ _do_ _not_ _want_ _to_ _be_ _like_ _that_ _dog_ _of_ _a_ Shogun _and_ _all_ _around_ _him_.'

Hisoka bowed his head. '_And_ _because_ _of_ _the_ _woman_ _I_ _love_ _and_ _thus_ _married_, _I_ _never_ _shall_.'

**Bedford, USA, 1929**

Indy opened his eyes and lifted his hand to his head. 'Lucky bastard.'

**Tokyo, Japan, 1929**

_**Yoshida Hisoka:**_

_Born in the Muromachi Period. Hisoka was a highly skilled Samurai who was dishonoured when he struck down the men of Shogun Ashikaga Yoshimitsu and stole many items of food, clothing and finery. It is reported that these items were taken apart by his wife, Lady Yoshida Chiasa, and used to feed and clothe the destitute who wandered the streets._

_Yoshida Hisoka refused to disembowel himself in order to regain his honour. Towards this end, he became known to official records as "the Dishonoured Samurai"._

Indiana Jones leaned back and stretched. His back cracked and he relaxed. Dishonoured, his foot. Money and resources were taken from Japan's populace so the Shogun could pamper themselves. That was how the destitute became as such. Whoops, they happened to need to go through the town where Hisoka lived.

The same way that – whoops – the Crusaders had to go through the town where Sigurd lived, a century beforehand.

On the contrary to what they thought, Indy knew that the reason Hisoka didn't disembowel himself was because he didn't believe he'd been dishonoured. The Samurai had existed to defend the Emperor. There was no longer an Emperor in total power. Indy knew most of the Samurai had transferred that loyalty over to the Shogunate. But not him.

Hisoka transferred the loyalty to the people.

Indy looked down again. He was surprised to see another familiar name right underneath Hisoka's.

_**Yoshida Yuichi:**_

_The son and only child of the Dishonoured Samurai. Possibly due to his parentage, Yuichi was a recluse. He trained in the arts of the Samurai but was never officially integrated into the order. Yuichi travelled across the sea to various lands, bringing back a wealth of knowledge and skills._

_There was another Yoshida Yuichi, possibly a descendant, who was integrated into the Samurai Order by Emperor Ninkō, whose life Yuichi saved where the actual Samurai failed._

'They wouldn't have been happy about that,' Indy mused. He doubted it was a different Yoshida Yuichi that saved Emperor Ninkō. Now that he thought about it, that was the Emperor that begun the deterioration of the shogunate.

**Pankot Palace, India, 1836**

Yuichi ran out of the Palace, his pouch kept close. He could hear the gunshots behind him. He ignored them as he ran, reaching into his pouch. He produced a smooth stone, marked with representation of the three levels of the universe. Yuichi threw it back and it sailed through the air, vanishing into the jungle.

Yuichi kept running. The speed in which he crossed the jungle was inhuman, at the very least. He dug into the pouch again and pulled out another of the stones. He flung that off in a random direction as well.

Yuichi kept running until he came to a rock formation. He stumbled to a stop and looked down. Below him was a village. No crops growing and very few animals. Even from where he was Yuichi could see that every living thing down there was undernourished. He pulled a third stone from his pouch.

'_You_ _were_ _used_ _for_ _evil_ _before_.' He seemed to be speaking to it. '_Now_ _it's_ _time_ _you_ _did_ _something_ _good_. _Fulfil_ _your_ _original_ _purpose_ _and_ _breathe_ _life_ _into_ _these_ _people_.'

The stone glowed brightly. Plants seemed to flourish out of the ground in the village and Yuichi saw water fill up their well.

The natives turned to him and raised their hands, crying out thanks. Yuichi smiled and walked down. The elder came forward, pressing his hands together and greeting and thanks. Yuichi tucked the stone back into his pouch and returned the gesture.

'_We_ _thank_ _you_.' The elder spoke in Tamil. '_You_ _come_ _and_ _give_ _life_ _to_ _our_ _village_.'

Yuichi smiled and pulled the rock out again, holding it out. He also spoke in Tamil. '_This_ _is_ _a_ _gift_ _from_ Shiva. _We_ _ask_ _that_ _you_ _accept_ _it_ _and_ _flourish_.'

The elder took the stone reverently. '_We_ _prayed_ _to_ Shiva _for_ _help_. _We_ _accept_ _graciously_.'

Yuichi nodded. That was three of them spread out. The five stones could never be assembled again. He would take the two he had home with him. Speaking of which, Yuichi smiled at the elder. '_My duty performed_,_ it's_ _time_ _I_ _went_ _home_.'

The elder nodded and bowed. '_May_ _your_ _journey_ _be_ _smooth_.' He went over to his people. Yuichi turned and walked out of the village.

**Lima, Peru, 1930**

Indy didn't even open his eyes. 'Haw. He's got two of the Sankara Stones.'


	5. Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: All characters that actually exist in the Indiana Jones series belong to Lucas and Spielberg.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Leonardo Ramon**

**London, England, 1930**

Harold Oxley could barely believe what Henry Jones Junior had just told him. 'The current man just went off with Francisco de Orellana?'

'You heard me,' Henry said. 'They just went looking for Akator.'

Harold smiled. 'You know what that means?'

'Yeah. Not all of them vanished.' Indy chuckled to himself. 'And I'm about to find out what really happened.'

'Hm.' Harold leaned back. That had been one thing that Henry and himself had initially bonded over when they met in college. 'What's the name of this fellow?'

'Leonardo Ramon.'

'Is he married like the others?'

Indy nodded. 'To a woman called Catalina. Boy, was she mad when he told her was going to after the place. Ranted and raved at him that if he loved gold so much, she hoped he turned into it.'

Harold frowned. 'That seems a little strong.'

'Well, Leonardo thought it was that time of the month.' Indy wrinkled his nose.

Harold shook his head. 'I'm not sure I understand.'

Indy sat forward. 'Well, at about the same time every month, women get cranky. Cramps or something. I never really asked anyone beyond Nick because he told me "it's a female thing".'

'This Leonardo fellow knew about it?' Harold asked. He remembered his father telling him something similar. Except he said "it's to do with conception".

'Well, he was married.' Indy shrugged. 'I'm betting he'd seen a lot more of it than either of us would've.'

'So, you'll find out the next time you go to sleep?' Harold asked.

'Probably,' Henry said, leaning back again. 'I don't see all of it. I see what I need to and then they move onto the next one.'

'And that takes a year per man?' Harold was surprised.

Henry grinned. 'Apparently, there's a lot I need to see.'

**Trujillo, Spain, 1546**

The door to the house opened and closed. Leonardo leaned back against the wood, panting for breath. He grabbed the helmet from his head and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a metallic thud. Leonardo slouched back against the door.

'Oh, _you're_ _back_, _are_ _you_?'

Leonardo looked up. Catalina stood at the top of the stairs, glaring down at him. Her long dark hair hung over her shoulders. She'd never looked more beautiful but he knew she wasn't exactly going to jump into his arms. She'd begged him not to go and, when he'd refused to listen, the anger had come.

From the looks of things, it'd only intensified in the time he was gone.

Catalina moved quickly down the stairs, her footfalls light but her posture still tense. '_Are_ _you_ _going_ _to_ _tell_ _me_ _what_ _happened_ _out_ _there_? _I_ _received_ _a_ _letter_ _from_ _the_ _King's_ _secretary_ _telling_ _me_ Orellana _and_ _all_ _his_ _men_ _were_ _missing_, _presumed_ _dead_! _I_ _understood_ _you_ _were_ _a_ _part_ _of_ _that_.'

Leonardo ran a hand through his hair, which had grown out again after the cropping it received, in irritation. '_I_ _was_.'

Catalina shook her head. '_Then_ _tell_ _me_ _what_ _happened_. _If_ _you_ _recall_, _I_ _told_ _you_ _it_ _was_ _madness_.'

'_Madness_,' Leonardo mused. '_Yes_, _that's_ _what_ _happened_.'

Catalina drew back and scrutinised him. '_You've_ _lost_ _me_, Leo.'

Leo stepped around her and walked over. He collapsed on one of the dinner table chairs. '_We_ _found_ _El_ _Dorodo_ _and_ _we_ _took_ _everything_ _we_ _could_ _get_ _our_ _hands_ _on_, _including_ _this_ _skull_, _that_ _looked_ _like_ _it_ _was_ _carved_ _perfectly_ _out_ _of_ _quartz_.'

Catalina shook her head. 'Leo, _if_ _you_ _recall_, _my_ _father_ _was_ _a_ _sculptor_. _You_ _couldn't_ _carve_ _a_ _skull_ _perfectly_ _out_ _of_ _crystal_. _The_ _whole_ _thing_ _would_ _shatter_.'

'_That_ _was_ _why_ Orellana _was_ _interested_ _in_ _it_,' Leo said. '_It_ _also_ _drew_ _all_ _other_ _metals_ _to_ _it_. Orellana _looked_ _into_ _the_ _eyes_ _and_…' He pressed his lips together and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

'_Spit_ _it_ _out_, Leo!' Catalina snapped.

'_First_ _his_ _body_ _started_ _shaking_.' Leo's hand clenched into a fist as he spoke. '_Then_ _blood_ _started_ _coming_ _out_ _of_ _his_ _eyes_. _I_ _knocked_ _the_ _damn_ _thing_ _out_ _of_ _his_ _hands_ _but_ _we_ _still_ _took_ _it_ _amongst_ _the_ _other_ _things_.'

Catalina stared at her husband. '_That_ _was_ _silly_ _of_ _you_.'

Leo raised and lowered his eyebrows '_You_ _can_ _use_ _stronger_ _language_ _than_ _that_. _The_ _further_ _we_ _got_ _from_ _El Dorodo_, _the_ _harder_ _it_ _was_ _for_ Orellana _to_ _keep_ _going_. _Eventually_, _he_ _couldn't_. _We_ _were_ _going_ _to_ _go_ _ahead_ _without_ _him_. _He_ _didn't_ _complain_…_until_ _someone_ – _I_ _don't_ _remember_ _who_ – _tried_ _to_ _take_ _the_ _skull_.'

Catalina turned her head curiously. '_What_ _had_ _it_ _done_ _to_ _him_?'

'_What_ _happened_ _in_ _his_ _mind_?' Leo smiled bitterly. '_I_ _still_ _don't_ _know_. _But_ Orellana _went_ _mad_. _He_ _started_ _killing_ _everyone_. _He_ _turned_ _on_ _me_ _last_ _and_ _I_…' Leo jammed his eyes shut. '_I_ _had_ _to_…'

'_You_ _had_ _to_ _kill_ _him_ _instead_.' Catalina's voice was soft. She understood that Orellana had been like a father to Leo. He'd taught him all about life and he'd trained him to fight. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

Leo turned and hugged her tight, finally letting the tears fall and soak into her nightgown. Catalina rubbed his back and kissed his head. They stayed like that for God knew how long before they were interrupted. A baby's cry cut through the air.

Leo lifted his head. '_What's_ _that_?'

Catalina laughed and kissed him. '_That_ _is_ _your_ _new_ _daughter_, Elena Leticia Ramon.'

**London, England, 1930**

Indy rolled out of bed and slipped downstairs. He started making himself a coffee. Ox had offered to let him stay here until he left London. Speaking of which, Ox was coming down himself.

'Did you see him again, Henry?' he asked.

'Yeah.'

'What happened?'

It took Indy less than five minutes to tell him. Ox shook his head sympathetically and tutted. 'Poor fellow. At least he came home to a pleasant surprise, though.'

'And we learned an important lesson here,' Indy said.

Ox looked up at him. 'Oh? What lesson is that?'

'If you ever find the Crystal Skull of Akator, don't look into the eyes.'

**Trujillo, Spain, 1551**

Catalina Ramon pushed her self up onto her hands and knees. Almost instantly, she had her three children grabbing onto her clothes, crying in fear. Elena and her two younger brothers, the twins, Eduardo and Eleuterio, shouldn't have been put in this position.

Catalina knew her legs wouldn't be able to hold her weight. Her body had taken too much stress. Catalina settled on her knees and drew her children to her. They clung to her and sobbed into her dress, all three of them.

'_What_ _did_ _we_ _ever_ _do_ _to_ _you_?' Catalina demanded. She knew that they still thought Leo was dead. '_What's_ _more_, _haven't_ _you_ _ever_ _heard_ _that_ _it's_ _extremely_ _ill_-_advised_ _to_ _attack_ _women_ _and_ _children_?'

One of the men, whom Catalina believed were guardsmen of King Charles, sneered. '_You_ _are_ _the_ _consort_ _of_ _the_ _traitor_. _Do_ _not_ _try_ _to_ _talk_ _yourself_ _out_ _of_ _just_ _punishment_.'

'_Consort_?' Catalina scrutinised them. '_I_ _only_ _married_ _once_ _and_ _he_ _died_ _over_ _in_ _South_ _America_. _He_ _was_ _on_ _that_ _fool's_ _quest for_ _El_ _Dorodo_.'

The other guardsman ground his teeth. '_And_ Leonardo Ramon _has_ _returned_ _from_ _the_ _grave_. _As if you don't know_._ You had those three after he left_._ His ghost returned to you first_,_ to carry on his bloodline_._ He_ _strikes_ _us_ _down_ _and_ _takes_ _our_ _gold_. _He_ _gives_ _our_ _money_ _to_ _common_ _street_ _trash_.' He raised his sword. '_We_ _must_ _sever_ _his_ _connection_ _to_ _this_ _world_.'

They began advancing on them. Catalina wished her husband would hurry. She didn't know if she could protect their children from these idiots. As if summoned by her thoughts, there was movement in the shadows behind the guardsmen.

Catalina looked and saw her husband step out, dressed in his Conquistador armour. His eyes settled on her and she gave him a hard look. Stop them. Leo shot forward, swinging his Toledo sword and cutting down three men.

The remaining two spun around and Leo faced them, raising his sword. The three children slowly stopped sobbing and turned. They calmed down considerably at the sight of their father.

'_Papa_!' the boys called. '_Papa_!'

Leo shot forward and brought his sword down on the man closest to him. The guardsman tried to step back, but this only saved his head. Leo's blade cut through his chest instead. The final one turned and fled.

Leo was faster. He shot after him and, with one sweep of the sword, the guardsman was beheaded. Leo watched the body fall and sheathed his sword. Catalina let her children go as Leo turned and started walking over to them.

All three of them called to him as they ran towards their father. '_Papa_! _Papa_!'

Leo crouched down in time to catch them and he hugged all three to his chest. '_My_ _babies_. _Are_ _you_ _hurt_?'

Elena, ever the wilful one, answered. '_No_, _papa_. _But_ _mama_ _is_.' She pointed back at Catalina.

Leo looked up at her. Catalina pulled herself up a bit further.

'_I'll_ _recover_,' she said.

'Hm.' Leo didn't look happy but he stood up. He pulled a leather cord from his sword belt and walked towards her. '_Come_ _along_, _children_.'

The three of young children followed as he walked over and crouched by his wife. Catalina reluctantly let Leo check over her wounds. He then attached the cord to his belt and handed it to Elena, Eduardo and Eleuterio.

'_Hold_ _onto_ _this_ _and_ _follow_ _me_,' he said. '_I_ _need_ _to_ _carry_ _mama_ _and_ _I_ _can't_ _carry_ _all_ _four_ _of_ _you_.'

Elena grabbed onto the cord first and then her brothers followed suit. Leo scooped Catalina up and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She knew she would only slow them down if she tried to walk.

That didn't mean she had to like it.

Leo led the children into the shadows and, that night, he taught them how to become completely undetectable.

**London, England, 1930**

Indy sat down in the plane seat and glanced out the window. He then pulled out the newspaper he'd gotten and looked at the article that'd caught his eye. It was about Germany. They were getting increasingly hostile.

That wasn't a big surprise. England and France were making them pay for the war completely. They probably had barely enough left over to live but now they were beginning to organise.

And Indy was getting a real bad feeling in his gut. Indy didn't like bad gut feelings. They had a really nasty tendency to be right.

**Trujillo Spain, 1557**

The blade glanced off the armour and the Trujillo Ghost spun around, swinging his sword and cutting down the Conquistador. The final body fell and he turned. The man, feared with superstition, disappeared into the shadows.

Standing on a roof above the alleyway, one foot resting on the upraised edge, Sigurd Dalen watched in interest. He grinned and said to himself, '_Well_, _looks_ _like_ _we're_ _not_ _the_ _only_ _ones_ _who_ _think_ _that_ _Spain_ _is_ _getting_ _too_ _big_ _for_ _its_ _boots_. _The_ _Trujillo_ _Ghost_? _Well_, _frankly_, _my_ _friend_, _I_ _prefer_ _names_.' He turned away and walked off. Sigurd walked down into the building he was perched on. He walked down a hallway and into the room. His son was sitting on the windowsill.

'_It_ _looks_ _as_ _if_ _we_ _have_ _another_ _one_,' Andor said. He looked over. '_Did_ _you_ _hear_ _a_ _name_, _fóðir_?'

Sigurd shrugged. '_All_ _I_ _heard_ _was_ "_the_ _Trujillo_ _Ghost_".'

'_Ghost_?' Ingfrid looked up at them. '_I_ _wonder_ _why_.'

'_We'll_ _find_ _out_ _in_ _the_ _morning_,' Sigurd said.

'_Name's_ Leonardo Ramon.'

'_He_ _was_ _a_ _Spanish_ _Conquistador_ _until_ 1546.'

'_At_ _which_ _time_, _he_ _went_ _with_ Francisco de Orellana _to_ _find_ _the_ _city_ _of_ _gold_.'

'_Seems_ _like_ _he's_ _changed_ _his_ _opinion_ _of_ _that_.'

'_He's_ _married_. Catalina Ramon.'

Catalina opened the door. She was surprised to find two redheads and a blond man with pale skin on the other side. The redheaded man looked like he was trying not to smile at something.

'_Can_ _I_ _help_ _you_?' Catalina asked.

'_It's_ _about_ _your_ _husband_,' the blond man said. He had a Norwegian accent but he spoke fluent Spanish.

Catalina frowned. '_My_ _husband_ _died_ _eleven_ _years_ _ago_.'

The redhead man shook his head. '_That's_ _just_ _what_ _you_ _want_ _people_ _to_ _think_. _We're_ _a_ _bit_ _smarter_ _than_ _that_.'

Catalina turned her head slightly. How was she going to get rid of these guys and leave them oblivious? The redhead woman elbowed the blond man. She smiled.

'_I'm_ _sorry_,' she said. '_You_ _see_, _we_ _came_ _from_ _Noway_ _because_ _the_ _Conquistadors_ _attacked our_ _homeland_. _We_ _thought_ _we should_ _come_ _and_ _see_ _if_ _there_ _was_ _anything_ _we_ _could_ _do to_ _stop_ _it_ _or_ _slow_ _it_ _down_, _at the very_ _least_. _We_ _found_, _though_, _that_ _your_ _husband_ _was_ _already_ _working_ _on_ _it_.'

Catalina was startled at that. She glanced behind her at Leo, who was hiding in the shadows of the room. He looked at her and she knew what he was thinking – get the conversation in here and out of the open. Catalina looked back and them and stepped back, allowing them in. All three were quick about stepping in.

Catalina closed the door behind them. '_Who_ _are_ _you_?'

'_I'm_ Sigurd Dalen,' the blond man said. '_This_ _is_ _my_ _wife_, Ingfrid _and_ _this_ _is_ Andor.' He glanced over where Leo was standing. '_And_ _I_ _assume_ _that's_ _your_ _husband_? Leonardo Ramon?'

That was shocking. Usually, people couldn't see him there. Leo raised his eyebrows and stepped out of the shadows. '_How_ _did_ _you_ _see_ _me_?'

Sigurd nodded. '_You_ _do_ _have_ _quite_ _a_ _talent_ _for_ _sleuth_, _meaning_ _you_ _can_ _use_ _dark_ _or any_ _shadowed_ _place_ _to_ _hide_ _yourself_ _easily_. _Once_ _you_ _do_ _so_, _you're_ _very_ _difficult_ _to_ _see_.' He grinned. '_Difficult_, _but_ _not_ _impossible_.' Sigurd straightened up and wiped the grin from his face. '_I_ _used_ _to_ _be_ _a_ _lot_ _like_ _you_, _Señor _Ramon. _Except_, _I_ _never_ _pretended_ _to_ _be_ _dead_. _I_ _was_ _considered_ _either_ _a_ _deserter_ _or_ _missing_ _in_ _action_.'

'_You_ _deserted_.' Leo scrutinised him. '_Why_?'

'_The_ _King_ _of_ _Norway_ _at_ _that_ _time_ _allowed_ _for_ _food_ _to_ _be_ _taken_ _from_ _his_ _subjects_ _and_ _given_ _to_ _his_ _soldiers_,' Sigurd said tightly. '_I_ _was_ _one_ _of_ _these_ _soldiers_, _but_ _I_ _never_ _knew_ _until_ _I_ _received_ _word_ _that_ _my_ _sister_ _had_ _starved_ _to_ _death_. _I_ _left_ _the_ _army_ _and_ _started_ _giving_ _the_ _food_ _back_ _to_ _the_ _people_ _who_ _really_ _needed_ _it_.' He visibly forced himself to relax. '_What_ _happened_ _to_ _you_?'

Catalina looked at her husband. She wasn't sure what to make of this. It sounded realistic but he could have been lying. Leo was a much better judge of this sort of thing, as much as she hated to admit it. Catalina could tell he believed the story. Leo gave them the abridged version of what happened to him.

When he was done, Sigurd, Ingfrid and Andor glanced at each other. Andor looked up the stairs and, no sooner than that, Elena appeared at the top. She trotted down.

'_Mama_, _papa_…' Elena saw the Norwegians and stopped. 'Oh, _hola_. _I'm_ _sorry_. _I_ _didn't_ _realise_ _we_ _had_ _company_.' She looked at her father curiously, practically asking aloud "why are you out in the open?"

Ingfrid smiled. '_Please_, _don't_ _mind_ _us_. _We're_ _Norwegian_.'

Elena looked at Leo. He nodded.

'_What_ _was_ _it_ _you_ _wanted_, _cariño_?' Leo asked.

'Oh!' Elena turned to him. '_It's_ _about_ _the_ _twins'_ _birthday_. _So_, _I_ _can_ _tell_ _you_ _later_.'

'_That_ _would_ _be_ _advisable_,' Catalina said. '_The_ _business_ _of_ _families_ _is_ _best_ _kept_ _in_ _the_ _family_.' She looked at the Norwegians. '_No_ _offence_ _intended_.'

'_None_ _taken_.' Ingfrid smiled and shrugged her shoulders. '_It_ _is_ _true_.'

'_Si_.' Elena politely nodded and ran back up the stairs.

Andor watched her go and then he looked at Leo. 'She's your firstborn.' It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

Catalina wondered at his interest.

'_Si_.' Leo frowned. '_Why_?'

Sigurd and Ingfrid seemed to both understand whatever was going through Andor's head instantaneously. Ingfrid pressed her lips together and dropped her head. Sigurd groaned in irritation.

'_Did_ _your_ _experience_ _in_ _South_ _America_ _make_ _you_ _hate_ _gold_?' Andor asked Leo.

Leo nodded. '_No_ _good_ _can_ _come_ _from_ _coveting_ _gold_ _and_ _money_. _What_ _has_ _that_ _got_ _to_ _do_ _with_ Elena?'

'_Born_ _upon_ _redemption_ _of_ _greed_.' Andor seemed to be quoting something. '_They_ _despise_ _the_ _glimmer_.'

'_Well_, _that_ _should_ _make_ Adeola _happy_,' Sigurd remarked. '_She's_ _not_ _the_ _only_ _girl_ _anymore_.'

Catalina shook her head. '_What_ _are_ _you_ _talking_ _about_?'

'_I_ _wasn't_ _expecting_ _this_.' Andor looked at Leo and Catalina. '_If_ _you_ _hadn't_ _had_ _that_ _experience_ _with_ _the_ _Skull_, _you_ _may_ _never_ _have_ _found_ _out_. Elena _is_ _a_ _Holy_ _Child_

**Caracas, Venezuela, 1930**

_She stood there, a Toledo sword in hand, like some kind of Goddess. The natives fell to their knees at her feet while Borksov and his men flinched away from her. She knew this jungle. She'd been here before._

_How to describe her? She stood of little more than average height for a lady and she was of lean build. Her brown skin was complimented by darker brown hair and eyes. If I were to place her age, I would say she was somewhere around twenty-five._

_She was Spanish. When she spoke, we heard the vowels and consonants pronounced in that way. Although, I would say, she must have had much experience in speaking English because her grammar was more distinct than most Spanish English-speakers I have encountered._

Indy leaned back. The Toledo sword was the traditional weapon of many Spanish Conquistadors, Leonardo Ramon included. In fact, he had one. Although this was a full written account, and it'd taken Indy a while to find it, Indy was sure. Of course, he couldn't be absolutely sure without a photograph.

The woman described in this section could very easily have been Elena Ramon.

**Amazon Jungle, South America, 1603**

The expedition was an eager group of men, all anxious and excited at the prospect of finding Akator. There were soldiers, academics and geographers. But, unknown to them, there were three others following them.

Leonardo Ramon still looked like he was in his mid-forties. Catalina Ramon looked like she was in her late thirties. Elena looked as though she was still around about twenty-five.

Catalina chuckled. '_Sure_ _of_ _themselves_, _aren't_ _they_?'

'_Come_ _on_.' Leo smirked. '_They're_ _going_ _in_ _completely_ _the_ _wrong_ _direction_.'

Elena looked at her father. '_What_ _happens_ _if_ _they_ _die_?'

'_You're_ _the_ _one_ _who_ _wanted_ _to_ _do_ _this_,' Leo told her. '_Didn't_ _you_ _think_ _of_ _that_?'

'_What_ _I_ _thought_ _of_ _was_ _that_ _I_ _ever_ _died_, _no_ _matter_ _how_ _it_ _happened_, _I'd_ _want_ _to_ _be_ _laid_ _to_ _rest_ _in_ _Spain_.' Elena nodded her head from one side to the other. '_Preferably_ _in_ _Trujillo_.' She looked at Leo. '_Your_ _friends_ _didn't_ _have_ _that_ _honour_, _papa_. _For_ _all_ _we_ _know_, _they_ _were_ _left_ _to_ _rot_ _in_ _the_ _middle_ _of_ _nowhere_.'

Leo looked at his wife. '_That's_ _your_ _influence_.'

Catalina grinned at him.

**Paris, France, 1984**

A trumpet fanfare echoed through the gardens of Versailles Palace. All those present turned and bowed low. King Louis XVI walked down the path towards his carriage. On one side, was the Queen Marie-Antoinette, and on the other, his personal secretary.

Partway, the King stopped and, in turn, so did the two with him.

'Eugene le Boiur-Chevalier.' The King calmly addressed the man bowing down closest to him. '_We_ _congratulate_ _you_ _on_ _the_ _birth_ _of_ _your_ _first_ _child_. _A_ _girl_, _is_ _it_ _not_?'

'_Oui_, _it_ _is_, _your_ _Majesty_.' Eugene le Boiur-Chevalier was a tall man with a fit form. He wore a white wig and had blue eyes. He was dressed in the finest clothes as an aristocrat should be.

And he deserved it. His family, over the centuries, had worked their way up to power from virtually nothing. Eugene never forgot that. It was one of the reasons he considered himself more realistic and loyal than those that surrounded him.

'_And_ _your_ _wife_?' the King asked.

'_In_ _good_ _health_, _Your_ _Majesty_.'

'_We_ _are_ _pleased_ _to_ _hear_ _it_.' The King smiled tightly. '_And_ _we_ _have_ _been_ _informed_ _that_ _you_ _named_ _the_ _young_ _one_ _for_ _the_ _Queen_, Marie Antoinette?'

'_I_ _have_, _Your_ _Majesty_.'

'_And_ _whose_ _idea_ _was_ _that_?'

'_My_ _wife's_, _Your_ _Majesty_. _I_ _was_ _not_ _present_ _at_ _the_ _time_ _of_ _the_ _birth_.' That was a lie, but Eugene knew the King wouldn't know that, nor would anyone else.

'_Your_ _wife_ _has_ _not_ _been_ _in_ _public_ _for_ _a_ _while_,' the King mused, as if trying this out as an acceptable reason for something done wrong and liking what he found in it. '_Have_ _you_ _made_ _any_ _changes_?'

Eugene was fully aware that the King didn't particularly like his Austrian-born wife. And her popularity in France was also dropping. '_I_ _have_ _hyphenated_ _the_ _name_.' It was really a sore shame but there was no reason he couldn't poke fun at someone. That was his one problem. Lunete-Reine, his wife, had liked the name chosen, and she appreciated that it was hyphenated like hers, but she didn't think his faux reasoning was all that amusing. If Eugene was honest, the real reason it was hyphenated was because his wife's was, but he wasn't going to tell anyone that. No, the joke of the matter was far more amusing to his peers and acquaintances.

The King chuckled. Many of the man around them chortled in amusement. Eugene didn't see, nor would he particularly care, the Queen's lip curl in distain from the alteration of her name.

'_Commendable_,' the King said. '_We_ _shall_ _attend_ _the_ _baptism_.'

The King, the Queen and the secretary continued on to the carriage. When they, at last, climbed aboard and were taken out of the grounds, many of Eugene's friends came over and congratulated him on the name.

Eugene laughed. '_It_ _is_ _a_ _lovely_ _name_ _for_ _a_ _little_ _girl_. _I_ _would_ _hate_ _to_ _see_ _it_ _wasted_ _because_ _of_ _one_ _woman_. _There_ _is_ _absolutely_ _no_ _reason_ _I_ _cannot_ _be_ _creative_.'

**Caracas, Venezuela, 1930**

Indy knew what was coming that Eugene would lift his hand against. Any first year history student would. 'Goddamnit, you asshole.'


	6. Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: All characters that actually exist in the Indiana Jones series belong to Lucas and Spielberg.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Eugene le Boiur-Chevalier**

**Paris, France, 1931**

Indy and Marcus sat in the motel room, going over their notes.

'Eugene le Boiur-Chevalier, of course, translates to Eugene the Boiur-Knight,' Marcus mused.

'And I've traced his family tree back.' Indy handed Marcus a set of papers. 'That's what he meant. His family name used to be "Boiur". They worked their way up from peasants to aristocrats over a course of six hundred years.'

Marcus nodded and looked over the notes. 'I imagine it would take something of that time to work your way from low society up to high society. You said he was still very arrogant about it?'

Indy nodded. 'And it's almost time. He's going to find out the hard way.'

**Paris, France, 1789**

Eugene ran into the grand manor that he called home. He knew it wouldn't be that way for long, though. He had to move quickly. Yanking his wig off his head and throwing it to the ground, Eugene ran up the stairs.

'Lunete-Reine!' he called as he ran up to the third floor and down the hallway. 'Lunete-Reine!'

Eugene slowed to a stop as the door to the nursery opened and his wife stepped out. Her long blonde hair was loose around her shoulders and her blue eyes were stormy and angry. Two young children, a four year old girl and a two year old boy peered out the door.

'Oh, _you're_ _home_ _early_,' Lunete-Reine remarked, her voice nearly a scathing hiss. '_What_ _would_ _the_ _occasion_ _be_?'

There wasn't time for this. Of course, she was right. He'd heard the accusations made before he managed to slip away. Maybe he should have paid more attention to his family. On the other hand, if he had he probably wouldn't know about this. They'd be caught too.

Over his dead body. '_We_ _have_ _to_ _leave_ _now_.' He strode over to her.

Lunete-Reine raised her eyebrows. '_Why_?'

Eugene ground his teeth. 'Lunete-Reine, _this_ _is_ _no_ _time_ _for_ _you_ _to_ _be_ _contrary_. _We_ _have_ _to_ _go_.'

Lunete-Reine raised her chin. '_We're_ _not_ _going_ _anywhere_ _until_ _you_ _explain_ _to_ _me_ _what_ _is_ _so_ _all_-_fire_ _important_.'

Eugene expelled a heavy breath out of his nose. '_Do_ _I_ _have_ _to_ _make_ _you_ _move_?'

'_If_ _you_ _don't_ _talk_, _you'd_ _best_ _be_ _prepared_ _to_ _do_ _so_.'

Eugene wiped the irritated look from his face. '_As_ _you_ _wish_.' In one motion, Eugene bent down and straightened up, his wife slung over his shoulder. Lunete-Reine yelled out in shock. She clearly hadn't been expecting him to really do it.

'Eugene le Boiur-Chevalier, _put_ _me_ _down_ _this_ _instant_!' she screeched at him.

Instead, he grabbed the two children and ran with all three of them. The children started screaming. Eugene winced. If they'd been familiar with him, this wouldn't have been an issue, but he could hear those bastards outside.

'Eugene!' Lunete-Reine pounded on his back angrily. '_What_ _the_ _devil_ _has_ _gotten_ _into_ _you_?'

'_I_ _think_ _I_ _finally_ _discovered_ _myself_ _as_ _a_ _person_,' Eugene said.

'_What_ _is_ _that_…?' Lunete-Reine was cut off at the sound, thunderous and appropriately ominous, of the manor's front doors being forced open.

Lunete-Reine finally did something to help him. She turned slightly. 'Marie-Antoinette, Sascha, _hush_ _yourselves_!'

The two young children shut their mouths at their mother's sharp tone but continued sniffling. Eugene never broke stride. Even if he was considered a stranger by his children, he wouldn't let them die.

Lunete-Reine listened as Eugene ran through the armoury. He moved both children under one arm and grabbed a crossbow and rope.

Lunete-Reine finally asked. '_Who_ _is_ _that_?'

'_Later_,' Eugene said. '_I_ _have_ _to_ _get_ _us_ _out_ _of_ _here_ _first_.' He stopped at a window and kicked the glass out. With any luck the revolutionists would think it was one of their own.

Eugene looked down at the two children under his arm. After a second's consideration, he slung them over his other shoulder so his other hand was free. He felt them clamp onto him in fear.

'_Stay_ _up_ _there_, _you_ _two_,' Lunete-Reine told them. '_Don't_ _come_ _down_ _until_ _he_ _puts_ _you_ _on_ _the_ _ground_.' At least she now appreciated that there was actually a danger to their lives.

Eugene grabbed the bolt from the crossbow and tied a firm knot at the end. He then lined it back up in the appropriate slot, aimed and shot. Once it hit its mark, Eugene tugged it, checking its stability.

That would hold. Eugene briefly turned his head as he heard yelling. Either they got out now, or they'd be joining the rest of their social class in the Bastille. Eugene took a firm hold on the rope and swung down. His family clung to him as they sailed through the air and into the forest that stood behind the manor.

As soon as Eugene's feet hit the ground, he let go of the rope and started running again, his hands going to his wife and children so they didn't fall. He ran into the forest until he was sure they were safe.

Eugene slowed to a stop and first put the children down. Lunete-Reine moved off his shoulder of her own accord. She looked around, down at the tearful and trembling children, up at the manor where shadows could be seen in the windows and then over at her husband.

'_What_ _just_ _happened_?'

Eugene sat down on the nearest decent-sized rock to catch his breath. '_It_ _seems_ _the_ _people_ _of_ _France_ _wish_ _for_ _a_ _republic_. _They're_ _revolting_ _against_ _the_ _aristocracy_.'

'_Revolting_?' Lunete-Reine looked back at the manor. '_By_ _attacking_ _us_ _in_ _our_ _homes_?'

Eugene frowned. '_They_ _stormed_ _Versailles_.'

Lunete-Reine's jaw dropped slightly. Marie-Antoinette had stopped crying but her brother was still sniffling. Walking over and tugging her mother's skirts, Marie-Antoinette asked, '_Mama_, _what's_ _Versailles_?'

Lunete-Reine looked down at her. '_It_…_It's_ _the_ _Royal_ _Palace_. _It's_ _where_ _the_ _King_ _lives_.' A glance at Eugene and she added, '_And_ _it's_ _where_ _your_ _papa_ _is_ _all_ _the_ _time_.'

Eugene groaned. '_I'm_ _not_ _there_ _now_, _am_ _I_?'

'_I_ _suppose_ _not_,' Lunete-Reine said. '_What_ _did_ _you_ _have_ _in_ _mind_ _next_?'

Sascha interrupted by yelling out and pointing. His sister and parents looked. Flames were stretched out of the windows of their home and wrapping around the outer walls. Eugene scowled at it. '_Well_, _we're_ _not_ _going_ _back_ _there_, _for_ _one_ _thing_.'

'_What_ _are_ _you_ _doing_?' Lunete-Reine asked.

Eugene stood up. '_They'll_ _want_ _everyone_ _who's_ _an_ _aristocrat_. _The_ _good_ _news_ _is_ _that_ _no_ _one_ _knows_ _what_ _you_ _three_ _look_ _like_. _I'll_ _have_ _to_ _put_ _a_ _bit_ _more_ _effort_ _but_ _we_ _should_ _be_ _able_ _to_ _revert_ _to_ _what_ _the_ Boiur _family_ _once_ _was_.'

'_Commoners_.' Lunete-Reine caught on quickly. '_But_ Eugene, _we're_ _raised_ _aristocrats_. _We_ _have_ _the_ _accents_, _the_ _names_, _the_ _habits_! _How_ _are_ _we_ _going_ _to_ _regress_ _six_ _hundred_ _years_?'

'_It's_ _all_ _very_ _simple_,' Eugene said. '_We_ _drop_ _the_ _habits_, _we_ _change_ _our_ _forenames_ _and_ _we_ _take_ "_le_" _and_ "_Chevalier_" _from_ _the_ _family_ _name_. _And_, _may_ _I_ _advise_, _until_ _you_ _learn_ _to_ _speak_…' He suddenly switched to a coarse accent. '…_like_ _this_, _you_ _don't_ _speak at all_ _in_ _public_.'

Lunete-Reine blinked. '_Where_ _did_ _you_ _learn_ _to_ _talk_ _like_ _that_?'

Eugene changed back to his normal accent. '_When_ _I_ _was_ _a_ _boy_, _my_ _papa_ _had_ _me_ _learn_ _several_ _of_ _the_ _trades_ _that_ _our_ _ancestors_ _lived_ _on_. _I_ _never_ _saw_ _the_ _point_ _then_ _but_ _I_ _certainly_ _do_ _now_.'

Lunete-Reine frowned in confusion. '_What_ _exactly_ _are_ _you_ _going_ _to_ _be_?'

'_A_ _blacksmith_.' Eugene grinned. '_Just_ _because_ _there's_ _a_ _bad_ _political_ _situation_ _is_ _no_ _reason_ _a_ _young_ _man_ _shouldn't_ _learn_ _how_ _to_ _defend_ _himself_.' He looked at his wife's blinking face. '_What_?'

'_This_ _is_ _how_ _you_ _discover_ _yourself_ _as_ _a_ _half_-_decent_ _father_?'

**Paris, France, 1931**

'I'd say that Eugene's the one the Scarlet Pimpernel was based on.' Indy sipped the whiskey. 'The Countess probably just didn't like the actual name.'

'What makes you say that?' Marcus asked.

'Well, originally, he was happy to just live out the rest of his life as a clumsy, slow-minded and bumbling blacksmith called Claude Boiur,' Indy said. 'Then he found out that women and children were also being executed, no matter how young.'

'For no reason other than their status.' Marcus nodded. 'So he became a Scarlet Pimpernel figure?'

'They called him the Guillotine Robber,' Indy said. 'You can understand why Orczy changed…' Indy cut himself off as the bulletin from the radio reported a familiar name.

'…_Mademoiselle Marie Boiur is due to return to France this evening_. _She_ _will_ _be_ _home_, _in_ _Paris_, _in_ _the_ _early_ _morning_. _The_ _reclusive_ _beneficiary_ _was_ _in_ _Norway_, _visiting_…'

'That could be her,' Indy mused.

'Who?' Marcus glanced at the radio. 'You think that Marie Boiur the recluse is Marie Boiur the Holy Child.' He shook his head. 'Are you sure you're not just jumping at shadows, Indy? I mean, maybe you're only seeing what you want to you.'

Indy shook his head. 'I don't think so.'

**Paris, France, 1794**

'_I_ _don't_ _see_ _how_ _you_ _did_ _it_, Eugene.'

Eugene looked back at his old friend and smiled. '_Did_ _what_, _may_ _I_ _ask_?'

The Duke laughed. '_You_ _used_ _to_ _live_ _in_ _the_ _lap_ _of_ _the_ _King's_ _court_. _Now_ _you_ _live_ _in_ _the_ _armpit_ _of_ _French_ _society and_ _you_ _take_ _to_ _it_.'

'_We_ _do_ _as_ _we_ _must_.' Eugene turned. 'Ah, _here's_ _my_ _boy_.'

The seven year old boy walked into the room, carrying firewood. He still bowed before he went over and added them to the hearth.

'_This_ _is_…Sascha, _is_ _it_ _not_?' the Duchess asked.

'_Oui_, _mademoiselle_,' the boy said. '_But_, _for_ _purposes_ _of_ _our_ _charade_, _I_ _am_ _called_ Stuart.'

'_A_ _common_ _name_.' The Duke nodded in approval. '_Very_ _clever_, Eugene. _What_ _of_ _your_ wife and daughter?'

As this was said, the nine year old daughter walked in. '_If_ _I_ _may_ _be_ _so_ _bold_, _mama_ _and_ _papa_ _removed_ _the_ "Antoinette" _from_ _my_ _name_ _and_ _mama_ _changed_ _her_ _name_ _to_ Edith.'

The Duke and Duchess looked surprised. Lunete-Reine walked in and placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders.

'_Mind_ _your_ _manners_, Marie.' She smiled at them. '_Due_ _to_ _the_ _charade_, _I'm_ _afraid_ _the_ _children_ _and_ _my_ _husband_ _have_ _some_ _confusion_ _on_ _propriety_.'

The Duke smiled humorously at Eugene. '_You_ _have_ _confusion_ _on_ _propriety_? _The_ _children_, _I_ _understand_, _but_…' He shook his head.

Eugene rolled his eyes. '_She_ _is_ _referring_ _to_ _my_ _decision_ _to_ _teach_ Marie _the_ _art_ _of_ _fencing_. _And_ _she_ _doesn't_ _mind_ _as_ _much_ _as_ _she_ _is_ _pretending_.'

The Duchess frowned in confusion. The Duke looked just as unsure.

'_Why_ _do_ _you_ _teach_ _a_ _young_ _lady_ _that_, Eugene?' he asked.

'_We_ _have_ _come_ _to_ _the_ _end_ _of_ _chivalry_,' Eugene answered. '_Now_, _strong_ _men_ _would_ _attack vulnerable_ _women_ _and_ _so_ _a_ _lady_ _must_ _have_ _the_ _ability_ _to_ _defend_ _herself_.' Eugene looked out the window. '_As_ _her_ _foremothers_ _did_.'

'_What_ _mean_ _you_?' the Duke asked.

Eugene smiled sardonically. 'Oh, _hadn't_ _you_ _heard_? _Six_ _hundred_ _years_ _ago_, _my_ _family_ _truly_ _was_ _of_ _this_ _class_.'

Marie and Stuart twisted around and looked at their father in surprise. '_We_ _were_?'

**Bedford, USA, 1931**

Indy looked at the photograph in the old newspaper article. The woman was identified in the caption as Marie Boiur. She was the recluse from Paris. And Indy was even more certain now than he had been when he first heard the name.

This Marie had long pale hair and eyes. Indy just hadn't expected her to be so gorgeous. She looked like the woman every man dreamed of. Surprisingly, he found himself unresponsive to her. It took him a moment to realise why. '…Well, I wasn't expecting that.'

Indy looked back down at the picture. No, he was absolutely certain of it. She looked like a matured and full-grown version of Marie-Antoinette le Boiur-Chevalier

**Paris, France, 1801**

Jordan Hood stopped and looked around when he felt it, that familiar tingling running up and down his neck. They'd come here to look at the Revolution. They knew someone was already doing something about it because of England's new residents. And now he found this.

'Jordan?'

His Auntie was standing a few paces ahead of him, with the other two. After her original name had fallen out of use, his auntie had changed her name from Fionnghuala to Penelope. Not even a hundred years ago, the Hoods had encountered Carlos and Sara, two more immortals.

Carlos Shields had been a nobleman plague victim. An experimental cure had caused his immortality with a bizarre chemical reaction. He'd found, by now, there was more gratification is helping people. Toward that end, he'd become a medical doctor. Jordan still wasn't sure how it happened but his auntie had fallen in love with Carlos and they'd gotten married.

Mortals would balk in horror at the two hundred year age gap between them.

Sara was another matter entirely. She was a bastard child maid in Puritan America with the unfortunate name of Repentance If-Christ-Had-Not-Died-For-Thee-Thou-Hast-Been-Damned. She'd been in a freak horse collision when she was twelve and woke up immortal – never getting any older. It was easy to see why she changed her name.

Carlos had taken her in and helped her. Now the four of them were together. Carlos and Sara knew about what Jordan was as well as his auntie did. Jordan looked around again. His eyes finally pinpointed the source of the sensation.

The petite sixteen year old girl followed a man with light brown hair, blue eyes and a vacant expression on his face. She had long gold hair and the same blue eyes as the man who walked ahead of her. He had to be her father. So he couldn't be as dense as he looked.

'Jordan?' his auntie called again.

Jordan looked at her and nodded at the girl. 'She's a Holy Child.'

**Bedford, USA, 1932**

Marie had grown into that woman that the world knew as Marie Boiur, the reclusive French beneficiary. Now the visions had stopped moving through Indy's mind. That meant that Marie was the last of them.

It was time to head out.

Marcus watched as Indy packed and he asked, 'You know what you're doing?'

'Only one I'm answering to is Marion.' Indy paused. 'And I've got a good feeling she won't be listening to any shoddy excuses.' He glanced back at him. 'Besides, all I have to do is locate Abner. He's probably still got Marion with him. I think I know where to start. I never got around to returning his Ark diary.'

'Is that what you were copying?' Marcus asked.

Indy grinned back at him. 'I sent that out to someone who has business knowing how obsessed Abner is.'

Marcus smiled to himself. 'I can guess.'

**El Jawf, Libya, 1932**

Kamau Kawar walked into the dining room. His daughter was sitting, poring over a set of papers. He frowned when he saw the concentration on her face. Kamau picked up the envelope at the edge and looked at the return address. He vaguely recalled the name from somewhere.

Dr. Indiana Jones, US

'_An_ _American_?' Kamau asked. '_What_ _does_ _he_ _want_?' They usually spoke Arabic now. It was the language of the land. And it was often necessary to make them appear somewhat normal. The fact that both Chinaza and Adeola refused to wear their burgas over their heads and faces, then beat up men who tried to apprehend them, didn't help.

Adeola glanced up and held up a letter. '_Apparently_, _he_ _wants_ _us_ _to_ _know_ _about_ _someone_ _who_ _could_ _pester_ _us_ _something_ _fierce_ _if_ _he_ _ever_ _found_ _out_ _what is_ _around_ _my_ _neck_.'

Kamau scowled and took the letter. It was, surprisingly, written in their native tongue. Not their current one, their original native tongue. This guy had to either be an archaeologist or a linguist who specialised in dead languages.

_To Kamau, Chinaza and Adeola,_

_I know you three have the Headpiece of the Staff of Ra. I'm not asking for it. I understand why you keep it. Instead, I'm sending you the copy of this diary. It belongs to Professor Abner Ravenwood. As you'll see if you read it, he's completely obsessed with the Ark of the Covenant._

_I have the original with me. I would have sent it to you, as opposed to the copy, but I need it to locate Abner. He took something from me, something very precious to me. Most people would probably say he had a right to take it, but I know about you. I highly doubt you'll agree. If you want more details, ask Nick Balinger._

_I suppose we'll meet sometime._

_Indiana Jones._

Kamau lowered the letter as his wife walked in. She looked around at the table curiously. '_What_ _is_ _this_?'

Kamau handed her the letter. Chinaza took it and read it. She took a few minutes, then looked up. A moment after she finished, Adeola finished the last of the journal copy. She leaned back in her chair.

'_I_ _agree_ _with_ _him_,' Adeola said. '_This_ Ravenwood _fellow_ _is_ _a_ _complete_…_as_ _this_ Jones _would_ _likely_ _say_, _he's_ _a_ _complete_ _nut_ _on_ _the_ _subject_.' She pointed to the letter. '_All_ _I_ _don't_ _understand_ _is_ _how_ Jones _knows_ _about_ _us_.'

'_Perhaps_ _we_ _should_ _ask_ Nick _as_ _he_ _suggests_,' Chinaza offered. '_He_ _must_ _be_ _telling_ _the_ _truth_ _if_ _he's_ _willing_ _to_ _have_ _us_ _ask_ _the_ _Sovereign_ _of_ _the_ _Century_.'

Kamau nodded. 'Nick?'

The faint light momentarily appeared on the bench and when it faded, Nick was sitting there. He was in the middle of shaking water out of his shaggy brown hair. When he stopped the face of an eighteen year old, that he'd be stuck with for the rest of history, turned towards them.

Nick grinned. 'Why am I always called when I'm in the middle of something?' He spoke in English. He only ever spoke in the other guy's language if that person didn't understand his and he wanted the message to get across.

Kamau thought he did it just to be annoying. So, he spoke Arabic back. '_About_ _this_ Indiana Jones _fellow_?'

Nick chuckled. 'So, you guys have finally established contact, have you?'

Adeola chuckled and tapped the papers in front of her. '_If_ _you_ _call_ _this_ _contact_, _then_ _yes_. _Who_ _is_ _he_?' She and her mother also did spoke in Arabic when Nick did this.

'An old friend,' Nick said. 'When he was fourteen, I introduced myself to him as I am.'

'_He_ _knows_ _of_ _immortals_?' Chinaza asked.

'He does.' Nick nodded once. 'Surprising thing about him, he's an archaeologist.'

Adeola barked out a laugh. '_A_ la-di-da _digger_?'

Nick grinned. 'I haven't told him that we immortals call him that behind his back. There's a good reason for the profession, mind you.'

'_There_ _better_ _be_.' Kamau looked annoyed.

'The guys he's going up against is obsessed with artefacts of the occult,' Nick said.

Chinaza's grimace turned into a worried look. '_He's_ _a_ _hero_?'

'He just doesn't know it yet.' Nick quirked his eyebrows. 'As for how he knows about you, in 1926 he made the usual mistake.'

Chinaza smiled. '_Well_, _they_ _all_ _do_ _that_. _Unless_ _they_ _don't_ _have_ _an_ _out_ _and_ _end_ _up_ _finding_ _out_ _how_ _much_ _the_ _girl_ _means_ _to_ _them_ _another_ _way_, _like_ Hisoka.'

'Hm.' Nick gazed out the window. 'Usual mistake, unusual reason.'

Kamau twisted his head and looked at Nick critically. '_Great_ _Gods_! _What_ _happened_?'

'Ten year age gap,' Nick said, looking back at them with a cynical curl of the lip. 'No big thing. Abner didn't notice for a few months. When he did, he threw the shits. Called Indy a sick bastard and threatened to ruin his name if the guy didn't leave real fast. Indy went with the excuse, which he didn't mention to her by the way, that she was better off without him.'

Chinaza and Adeola looked between themselves. Kamau rubbed his beard. '_Well_, _that_ _sounds_ _better_ _than_ _anything_ _I_ _ever_ _said_.'

'Kamau!' Chinaza snapped, whacking him upside the head. '_It_ _doesn't_ _matter_ _how_ _good_ _it_ _sounds_, _it's_ _still_ _just_ _the_ _lame_ _excuse_ _of_ _a_ _man_ _scared_ _of_ _his_ _own_ _emotions_.'

'Chinaza, _love_.' Kamau leaned over and kissed her. '_Remember_, _we_ _were_ _all_ _like_ _that_ _once_. Leo, Sigurd, _me_.' He smiled. '_The_ _late_ _and_ _great_ Robin, Hisoka _and_ Eugene. _He'll_ _get_ _over_ _it_.'

'He is over it,' Nick said. 'Because of his flightiness and an unstable childhood, he had serious commitment issues. So the bosses showed him the lives and times of all six of you.'

* * *

All right, people. That's the end of the first part. The second part'll be out soon.


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